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 uneared 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
Brings back the lovely April of her prime,
So thou through windows of thine age shalt see
Despite the wrinkles, this thy golden time.
But if thou live rememb'red not to be,
Die single, and thine image dies with thee.
Unknown "JB is awesome!" Ferocious
- 16 years, 9 months, 2 days ago
