To Time

Eternal Time, that wastest without waste,
That art, and art not, diest, and livest still;
Most slow of all, and yet of greatest haste,
Both ill and good, and neither good nor ill:
How can I justly praise thee, or dispraise?
Dark are thy nights, but bright and clear thy days.

Both free and scarce, thou giv'st and tak'st again;
Thy womb that all doth breed, is tomb to all;
What so by thee hath life, by thee is slain;
From thee do all things rise, by thee they fall:
Constant, inconstant, moving, standing still,
Was, is, shall be, do thee both breed and kill.

I lose thee, while I seek to find thee out;
The farther off, the more I follow thee;
The faster hold, the greater cause of doubt,
Was, is, I know; but shall, I cannot see.
All things by thee are measured, thou by none:
All are in thee, thou in thyself alone.