Sonnet 18, Some Gave Hearts Freedom

Some gave hearts freedom to every agnel
That stood test of time's celebrated hour,
Like those that were in ebony tower
And did not know what future could foretell;
For like a flower that in decline does smell
And berry fruits in higher trees are sour,
Or everything that dismiss or empower
Between what's sour and sticky caramel.

Revival may find not worthy debate
To ask such questions what all things come of,
For everything is either right or wrong;
Time will tell you this: art is but an ait,
The cloth that the tomorrow will doff,
For new things from the old will come along.