Sonnet 22

My glass shall not persuade me I am old,

So long as youth and thou are of one date,

But when in thee time’s furrows I behold,

Then look I death my days should expiate.

For all that beauty that doth cover thee

Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,

Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me.

How can I then be elder than thou art?

O, therefore, love, be of thyself so wary

As I, not for myself, but for thee will,

Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary

As tender nurse her babe from faring ill.

Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain,

Thou gav’st me thine, not to give back again.

No one can persuade me that I am old

As long as you and youth are together.

But when in time I see age take hold

Of you too, it will be time I wither.

What you wear now without your clothes

Is my evening gown, custom for my heart,

Which lives inside yours, as yours wreathes

Around mine, though mine will sooner depart.

Please, therefore love, with yourself be so careful

As I—not for me but for you—will be,

Carrying your heart like something so fragile

That the world would be lost if it did not see.

Don’t take for granted that when my heart is gone

Yours will be returned to you unworn.