Classic Poem

What just excuse had aged Time,
His weary limbs now to have eased,
And sat him down without his crime,
While every thought was so much pleased!
For he so greedy to devour
His own, and all that he brings forth,
Is eating every piece of hour
Some object of the rarest worth.
Yet this is rescued from his rage,
As not to die by time or age.
For beauty hath a living name
And will to heaven, from whence it came.
(from Love Freed from Ignorance and Folly)