| SONNET 2 |
PARAPHRASE |
| When forty winters shall beseige thy brow, |
Forty years from now, when your brow is wrinkled with age, |
| And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, |
And you are showing all the other signs of aging, |
| Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now, |
The pride and greatness of your youth, so much admired by everyone now, |
| Will be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held: |
Will be worth as little as a tattered weed: |
| Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies, |
Then, when you are asked 'where is your beauty now?', |
| Where all the treasure of thy lusty days, |
And, 'where are all the treasures you had during your days of lust?' |
| To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes, |
You must say only within your own eyes, now sunk deep in their sockets, |
| Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise. |
Where lies a shameful confession of greed and self-obsession. |
| How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use, |
If you would have only put your beauty to a greater use, |
| If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine |
If only you could have answered 'This fair child of mine |
| Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,' |
Shall give an account of my life and prove that I made no misuse of my time on earth.' |
| Proving his beauty by succession thine! |
Proving that his beauty, because he is your son, was once yours! |
| This were to be new made when thou art old, |
This child would be new-made when you are old, |
| And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold. |
And you would see your own blood flow warm through him when you are cold. |
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