Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest <br /> Now is the time that face should form another; <br /> Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, <br /> Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. <br /> For where is she so fair whose unear'd womb <br /> Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry? <br /> Or who is he so fond will be the tomb <br /> Of his self-love, to stop posterity? <br /> Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee <br /> Calls back the lovely April of her prime: <br /> So thou through windows of thine age shall see <br /> Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time. <br /> But if thou live, remember'd not to be, <br /> Die single, and thine image dies with thee.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-iii-2/
