- Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest
- Now 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 womb
- Disdains 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 thee
- Calls 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 dies with thee.