Shakespeare's Sonnets: Thus is his cheek the map of days out-worn

Thus is his cheek the map of days out-wornWhen beauty liv'd and died as flow'rs do now,Before these bastard signs of fair were borneOr durst inhabit on a living brow:Before the golden tresses of the dead,The right of sepulchers, were shorn away,To live a second life on second head,Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay.In him those holy antique hours are seen,Without all ornament, it self and true,Making no summer of an other's green,Robbing no old to dress his beauty new, And him as for a map doth nature store, To shew false art what beauty was of yore.