Sonnet 13
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O! that you were your self; but, love, you are
No longer yours, than you your self here live:
Against this coming end you should prepare,
And your sweet semblance to some other give:
So should that beauty which you hold in lease
No longer yours, than you your self here live:
Against this coming end you should prepare,
And your sweet semblance to some other give:
So should that beauty which you hold in lease
Find no determination; then you were
Yourself again, after yourself's decease,
When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear.
Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,
which husbandry in honour might uphold,
against the stormy gusts of winter's day
Yourself again, after yourself's decease,
When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear.
Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,
which husbandry in honour might uphold,
against the stormy gusts of winter's day
and barren rage of death's eternal cold?
O! None but unthrifts. Dear my love, you know,
you had a father: let your son say so.
O! None but unthrifts. Dear my love, you know,
you had a father: let your son say so.
Reste tel qu’en toi-même; mais, mon amour,
tu n’es toi qu’autant que tu vis ici:
prépare-toi, elle approche cette fin des jours,
donne à quelqu’un ta belle physionomie:
cette beauté dont tu n’es que l’occupant
te survivrait; tu serais un nouveau
toi-même après ton décès, tes enfants
seraient à ton image, tout aussi beaux.
Qui laisse décliner un tel sanctuaire,
qu’un bon père de famille sait maintenir
contre les tempêtes des jours d’hiver,
le froid éternel et son stérile délire ?
Des irresponsables! tu eus, cher ami,
un père: que ton fils en ait un aussi.
© Mermed 2014-2015
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