Sonnet #68

Thus is his cheek d map of days outworn,
When beauty lived & died as flowers do now,
Be4e these bastard signs of fair were born,
/ durst inhabit on a living brow:
Be4e d golden tresses of d dead,
d right of sepulchres, were shorn away,
2 live a second life on second head,
Ere beautyz dead fleece made another gay:
In him those holy antique hours R Cn,
w/o all ornament, it self & true,
Making no summer of anotherz green,
Robbing no old 2 dress his beauty nu,
& him as 4 a map doth Nature store,
2 show false Art wot beauty was of yore.
See Original Sonnet

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

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