Sonnet #3

Look in thy glass & tell d face thou viewest,
Now is d time th@ face shud 4m another,
Whose fresh repair if now thou nt renuest,
Thou dost beguile d world, unbless sum mother.
4 wr is she so fair whose uneared womb
Disdains d tillage of thy husb&ry?
/ who is he so fond will b d tomb,
Of his self-luv 2 stop posterity?
Thou art thy motherz glass & she in thee
Calls back d luvly April of her prime,
So thou through windows of thine age shalt C,
Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time.
bt if thou live remembered nt 2 be,
Die single & thine image dies wiv thee.
See Original Sonnet

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

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