from fairest creatures we desire increase

that thereby beauty’s rose may never die

but as the riper should by time decease

his tender heir might bear his memory

but thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes

feed’st thy life’s flame with self-substantial fuel

making a famine where abundance lies

thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel

though that art now the world’s fresh ornament

and only herald to the gaudy spring

within thine own bud buriest thy content

and, tender churl, mak’st waste in niggarding

pity the world, or else this glutton be

to eat the world’s due, by the grave and thee

know why you are put on this earth

and never look back