Sonnet #12

When I do count d clock th@ tells d time,
& C d brave day sunk in hideous night,
When I behold d violet past prime,
& sable curls all silvered o'er wiv white:
When lofty trees I C barren of leaves,
Which erst frm heat did canopy d herd
& summerz green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on d bier wiv white & bristly beard:
Then of thy beauty do I question make
th@ thou among d wastes of time must go,
Since sweets & beauties do themselves 4sake,
& die as fast as they C others grow,
& nothing 'gainst Timez scythe can make defence
Save breed 2 brave him, when he takes thee hence.
See Original Sonnet

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

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