The tyme, that may not sojourne But goth, and never may retourne, As water that down runneth ay, But never drope retourne may; Ther may no-thing as tyme endure, Metal, nor erthely creature; For alle thing it fret, and shal: The tyme eek, that chaungeth al, And all doth waxe and fostred be, And alle thing destroyeth he.
The Romaunt of the Rose