Sonnet 54. O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem

O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem

By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!

The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem

For that sweet odour, which doth in it live:

The canker blooms have full as deep a dye

As the perfumed tincture of the roses

Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly

When summer's breath their masked buds discloses: