Lady, how can it chance--yet this we see br In long experience--that will longer last br A living image carved from quarries vast br Than its own maker, who dies presently? br Cause yieldeth to effect if this so be, br And even Nature is by Art at surpassed; br This know I, who to Art have given the past, br But see that Time is breaking faith with me. br Perhaps on both of us long life can I br Either in color or in stone bestow, br By now portraying each in look and mien; br So that a thousand years after we die, br How fair thou wast, and I how full of woe, br And wherefore I so loved thee, may be seen.