Sonnet 3 (Miscellaneous Sonnets)

Hast thou not seen an aged rifted tower,
Meet habitation for the Ghost of Time,
Where fearful ravage makes decay sublime,
And destitution wears the face of power ?
Yet is the fabric deck'd with many a flower
Of fragrance wild, and many-dappled hue.
Gold streak'd with iron-brown, and nodding blue.
Making each ruinous chink a fairy bower.
E'en such a thing methinks I fain would be.
Should Heaven appoint me to a lengthen'd age ;
So old in look, that Young and Old may see
The record of my closing pilgrimage :
Yet, to the last, a rugged wrinkled thing
To which young sweetness may delight to cling !