Shakespeare's Sonnets 1&2

1 Freom fairest creatures we desire increase,
That therby beauty's rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time deseas,
4 His tender heir might bear his memory;
But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes,
Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
8 Thyself a foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.
Thou that art now the worlds fresh ornament
And only herald to the haudy spring,
Withing thine own bud buriest thy content
12 And, Tender churl, Mak'st waste in niggarding.
Pity the world, on else this glutton be,
To eat the world's due by the grave and thee.

2 When fort winters shall besiege thy brow
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,
4 Will be a tottered weed of small worth held:
Then being asked where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of the lusty days,
To say within thine own deep-sunken eyes
8 Where an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.
Has much more praise deserved thy beauty's use
If thou couldst answer, 'This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count and make my old excuse',
12 Proving his beauty by succession thine.
This were to be new made when thou art old
And see thy blood warm when thou feels cold.