Patrick Stewart reads a sonnet a day until COVID-19 is over

https://twitter.com/SirPatStew Sonnet XII When I do count the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night; When I behold the violet past prie, And sable curls, all silver'd o'er with white; When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, Which erst from heat did canopy the heard, And summer's green all girdled up in sheaves, Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard; Then of thy beauty do I questino make, That thou among the wastes of time must go, Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake And die as fast as they see others gro; An nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence. Sonnet XIII reminds me of memcache: So should that beauty which you hold in lease Find no determination: then you were Yourself again, after yourself's decease,