- Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn,
- When beauty lived and died as flowers do now,
- Before these bastard signs of fair were born,
- Or durst inhabit on a living brow;
- Before the golden tresses of the dead,
- The right of sepulchres, were shorn away,
- To live a second life on second head;
- Ere beauty’s dead fleece made another gay:
- In him those holy antique hours are seen,
- Without all ornament, itself and true,
- Making no summer of another’s green,
- Robbing no old to dress his beauty new;
- And him as for a map doth Nature store,
- To show false Art what beauty was of yore.