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

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