Ruin has taught me to ruminate, That Time will come and take my love away. This thought is as a death, which cannot choose But weep to have that which it fears to lose.
What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husks And formless ruin of oblivion.
Woe, destruction, ruin, and decay; the worst is death and death will have his day.
That is the way to lay the city flat, To bring the roof to the foundation, And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges, In heaps and piles of ruin.
And ruin`d love when it is built anew, grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater