1593-1603 by Shakespeare 
Sonnet 115 

1	Those lines that I before have writ do lie,
2	Even those that said I could not love you dearer#
3	Yet then my judgement knew no reason why
4	My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer.
5	But reckoning time, whose millioned accidents
6	Creep in ’twixt vows and change decrees of kings,
7	Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp’st intents,
8	Divert strong minds to th’ course of alt’ring things 
9	Alas, why, fearing of time’s tyranny,
10	Might I not then say “Now I love you best”,
11	When I was certain o’er incertainty,
12	Crowning the present, doubting of the rest?
13	Love is a babe# then might I not say so,
14	To give full growth to that which still doth grow.