[1] From fairest creatures we desire increase,
[2] That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
[3] But as the riper should by time decease,
[4] His tender heir might bear his memory:
[5] But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,
[6] Feed'st thy light'st flame with self-substantial fuel,
[7] Making a famine where abundance lies,
[8] Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.
[9] Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament
[10] And only herald to the gaudy spring,
[11] Within thine own bud buriest thy content
[12] And, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding.
[13] Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
[14] To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.
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