William Shakespeare - Sonnet 71
No longer mourn for me when I am dead |
| Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell |
| Give warning to the world that I am fled |
| From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell: |
| Nay, if you read this line, remember not |
| The hand that writ it; for I love you so |
| That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot |
| If thinking on me then should make you woe. |
| O, if, I say, you look upon this verse |
| When I perhaps compounded am with clay, |
| Do not so much as my poor name rehearse. |
| But let your love even with my life decay, |
| Lest the wise world should look into your moan |
| And mock you with me after I am gone.....!!!! |
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