[1] Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest
[2] Now is the time that face should form another;
[3] Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,
[4] Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.
[5] For where is she so fair whose unear'd womb
[6] Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?
[7] Or who is he so fond will be the tomb
[8] Of his self-love, to stop posterity?
[9] Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee
[10] Calls back the lovely April of her prime:
[11] So thou through windows of thine age shall see
[12] Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time.
[13] But if thou live, remember'd not to be,
[14] Die single, and thine image dies with thee.
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