Sonnet 62


  Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye,
  And all my soul, and all my every part;
  And for this sin there is no remedy,
  It is so grounded inward in my heart.
  Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,
  No shape so true, no truth of such account,
  And for my self mine own worth do define,
  As I all other in all worths surmount.
  But when my glass shows me my self indeed
  beated and chopt with tanned antiquity,
  Mine own self-love quite contrary I read:
  Self, so self-loving were iniquity.
    'Tis thee (my self) that for my self I praise,
    Painting my age with beauty of thy days.


facebook share button twitter share button google plus share button tumblr share button reddit share button email share button share on pinterest pinterest

Create a library and add your favorite stories. Get started by clicking the "Add" button.
Add Sonnet 62 to your own personal library.

Return to the William Shakespeare Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; Sonnet 63

Anton Chekhov
Nathaniel Hawthorne
Susan Glaspell
Mark Twain
Edgar Allan Poe
Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
Herman Melville
Stephen Leacock
Kate Chopin
Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson