Day 12

Here’s the one where he counts the clock  J

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XII

  When I do count the clock that tells the time,

  And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;

  When I behold the violet past prime,

  And sable curls, all silvered o'er with white;

  When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,

  Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,

  And summer's green all girded up in sheaves,

  Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,

  Then of thy beauty do I question make,

  That thou among the wastes of time must go,

  Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake

  And die as fast as they see others grow;

    And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence

    Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.

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That long adverbial prepositional phrase lasting all of lines 1–8!  J  Which develops the vehicle, with the third quatrain shifting seamlessly to the tenor … the volta is the save at the beginning of the last line (my eyesight’s a little better today  J).