11,112,006,825,558,016 Sonnets

(after Queneau)

Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest
Now is the time that face should form another;
Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die.
Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest.
For thou art so possess'd with murderous hate
That thou no form of thee hast left behind,
Sap cheque'd with frost and lusty leaves quite gone,
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,
Then of thy beauty do I question make,
Which husbandry in honour might uphold
Resembling sire and child and happy mother
Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove:
Thy unused beauty must be tomb'd with thee,
You had a father: let your son say so.

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