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Thy Children are Thy Memory
Sonnet IX
No love toward others
Look - what an unthrift
Is it for fear
to wet a widow's eye
in the world doth spend
That thou consumest
thyself in single life
in that bosom sits
Shifts but his place
Ah if thou issueless
shalt hap to die
for still the world enjoys it
The world will wail thee
like a makeless wife
William Shakespeare
IX
That on himself such
But beauty's waste
The world will be thy
widow and still weep
hath in the world an end
That thou no form of
thee hast left behind
murderous shame commits
And kept unused
When every private
widow well may keep
the user so destroys it
By children's eyes her
husband's shape in mind
