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