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 ……