Shakespeare's Sonnets: Oh how much more doth beauty beaut'ous seem

Oh how much more doth beauty beaut'ous seem,By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deemFor that sweet odor which doth in it live:The canker blooms have full as deep a dieAs the perfumed tincture of the roses,Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly,When summer's breath their masked buds discloses:But for their virtue only is their show,They live unwoo'd, and unrespected fade,Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odors made: And so of you, beaut'ous and lovely youth, When that shall vade, by verse distils your truth.