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

(after Queneau)

When forty winters shall beseige thy brow,
Upon thyself thy beauty's legacy?
But as the riper should by time decease,
And your sweet semblance to some other give.
That use is not forbidden usury,
To hideous winter and confounds him there;
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate
Of his self-love, to stop posterity?
Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,
Harsh featureless and rude, barrenly perish:
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
Nor it nor no remembrance what it was:
She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.

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