William Shakespeare. 1564–1616

Sonnet III.

“Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest”


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 unear’d womb    5
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  
Calls back the lovely April of her prime;   10
So thou through windows of thine age shalt see,  
Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time.  
  But if thou live, remember’d not to be,  
  Die single, and thine image dies with thee.