Sonnet 115

1 Those lines that I before have writ do lie,
2 Even those that said I could not love you dearer,
3 Yet then my judgement knew no reason why,
4 My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer,
5 But reckoning time, whose millioned accidents
6 Creep in ’twixt vows, and change decrees of kings,
7 Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp’st intents,
8 Divert strong minds to the course of alt’ring things:
9 Alas why fearing of time’s tyranny,
10 Might I not then say ‘Now I love you best,’
11 When I was certain o’er incertainty,
12 Crowning the present, doubting of the rest?
13 Love is a babe, then might I not say so
14 To give full growth to that which still doth grow.