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Herbert
SONNET NO. 9
Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye,
That thou consumest thy self in single life?
Ah, if thou issue less shalt hap to die,
The world will wail thee like a mateless wife,
The world will be thy widow and still weep,
That thou no form of thee hast left behind,
When every private widow well may keep,
By childrens eyes- her husbands shape in mind:
Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it
But beauty's waste hath in the world an end,
And kept unused-the user so destroys it:
No love toward others in that bosom sits,
That on himself such murderous shame commits.