Shakespeare's Sonnets (Paperback)
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When forty winters shall besiege thy brow, And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, Thy youth's proud livery so gazed on now, Will be a tatter'd weed of small worth held: Then being asked, where all thy beauty lies, Where all the treasure of thy lusty days;To say, within thine own deep sunken eyes, Were an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise.How much more praise deserv'd thy beauty's use, If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mineShall sum my count, and make my old excuse, 'Proving his beauty by succession thine This were to be new made when thou art old, And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewestNow is the time that face should form another;Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.For where is she so fair whose unear'd wombDisdains the tillage of thy husbandry?Or who is he so fond will be the tomb, Of his self-love to stop posterity?Thou art thy mother's glass and she in theeCalls back the lovely April of her prime;So thou through windows of thine age shalt see, Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time.But if thou live, remember'd not to be, Die single and thine image di.