Shake-speares Sonnets, Never before Imprinted/Sonnet 62
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For other versions of this work, see Sonnet 62 (Shakespeare).
62
Sinne of selfe-loue possesseth al mine eie,
And all my soule, and al my euery part;
And for this sinne there is no remedie,
It is so grounded inward in my heart.
Me thinkes no face so gratious is as mine,
No shape so true, no truth of such account,
And for my selfe mine owne worth do define,
As I all other in all worths surmount.
But when my glasse shewes me my selfe indeed
Beated and chopt with tand antiquitie,
Mine owne selfe loue quite contrary I read
Selfe, so selfe louing were iniquity,
T'is thee (my selfe) that for my selfe I praise,
Painting my age with beauty of thy daies.
Sinne of selfe-loue possesseth al mine eie,
And all my soule, and al my euery part;
And for this sinne there is no remedie,
It is so grounded inward in my heart.
Me thinkes no face so gratious is as mine,
No shape so true, no truth of such account,
And for my selfe mine owne worth do define,
As I all other in all worths surmount.
But when my glasse shewes me my selfe indeed
Beated and chopt with tand antiquitie,
Mine owne selfe loue quite contrary I read
Selfe, so selfe louing were iniquity,
T'is thee (my selfe) that for my selfe I praise,
Painting my age with beauty of thy daies.