Luyện nghe bài hát Vi. Sun Ascension B - (sonnet Cxxvi)

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy
Dost hold Time's glass, his sickle, hour;
Who hast by waning grown, and show'st
Thy withering as thy sweet self grow'st;
If Nature, mistress over wrack,
As thou goest onwards, still will pluck back,
She thee to this purpose, that her skill
May disgrace and wretched minutes kill.
Yet fear her, O thou of her pleasure!
She may detain, but not keep, her treasure:
Her audit, though delay'd, answer'd be,
And her quietus is to thee.