11,112,006,825,558,016 Sonnets(after Queneau)Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell, Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many, The world will wail thee, like a makeless wife; Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell, Without this, folly, age and cold decay: yet mortal looks adore his beauty still, And threescore year would make the world away. Then, were not summer's distillation left, That thou among the wastes of time must go, Then how, when nature calls thee to be gone, Leaving thee living in posterity? Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one, Which, used, lives th' executor to be.
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