Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn
1
When beauty lived and died as flowers do now,
Before these bastard signs of fair were born
Or durst inhabit on a living brow;
Before the golden tresses of the dead,
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The right of sepulchers, were shorn away
To live a second life on second head,
Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay:
In him those holy antique hours are seen,
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Without all ornament, itself and true,
Making no summer of another's green,
Robbing no old to dress his beauty new;
And him as for a map doth Nature store,
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To show false Art what beauty was of yore.