From fairest creatures
Look in thy glass and
Those hours,that with
Then let not winter''s
Lo!in the orient when
Music to hear,why
When I do count the
But wherefore do not
Shall I compare thee
A woman''s face with
My glass shall not
Mine eye hath play''d
Let those who are in
Lord of my liove ,to
Weary with toil,to
How ean I then return
When to the sessions of
Thy bosom is endeared
If thu survive my
Full many a glorious
Let me confess that we
As a decrepit fateher
How can my muse want
O!how thy worth with
……