Sonnet

I am sending you a bouquet I have just plucked
From among these blooms.
If they had not been picked this evening
They would be wilted tomorow.
Let this be proof
That your beauty, though in bloom today,
Will soon fade away,
And, like flowers, will perish suddenly.
Time passes, time passes.
Alas, lady, it is not time but we who pass on,
Soon to be laid out.
And the love of which we speak
Will no longer be fresh if we are dead.
Therefore, love me whilst you are still beautiful.