Volta project, day eleven

Sonnet eleven with the net of exquisite metaphors  J

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XI

  As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st,

  In one of thine, from that which thou departest;

  And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st,

  Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest,

  Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase;

  Without this folly, age, and cold decay:

  If all were minded so, the times should cease

  And threescore year would make the world away.

  Let those whom nature hath not made for store,

  Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish:

  Look, whom she best endow'd, she gave thee more;

  Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish:

    She carv'd thee for her seal, and meant thereby,

    Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.

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Is the volta as late as the not in the last line?  I should work on being less confused  L  starting with getting more sleep …