Sonnet 62

Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eyeAnd all my soul and all my every part;And for this sin there is no remedy,It is so grounded inward in my heart.Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,No shape so true, no truth of such account;And for myself mine own worth do define,As I all other in all worths surmount.But when my glass shows me myself indeed,Beated and chopp'd with tann'd antiquity,Mine own self-love quite contrary I read;Self so self-loving were iniquity. 'Tis thee, myself, that for myself I praise, Painting my age with beauty of thy days.
It's the sin of self love that I viewas the hardest of all to eschew.Though I'm sinning routinely,it's done quite serenely,for I love myself thinking of you.