William Shakespeare. 1564–1616

Sonnet XXII.

“My glass shall not persuade me I am old”

MY glass shall not persuade me I am old  
So long as youth and thou are of one date;  
But when in thee time’s furrows I behold,  
Then look I death my days should expiate.  
For all that beauty that doth cover thee    5
Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,  
Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me:  
How can I then, be elder than thou art?  
O! therefore, love, be of thyself so wary  
As I, not for myself, but for thee will;   10
Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary  
As tender nurse her babe from faring ill.  
  Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain;  
  Thou gav’st me thine, not to give back again.