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| SONNET 68 |
| Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn, |
| When beauty lived and died as flowers do now, |
| Before the 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. |
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