LXXXI. Or I shall live your epitaph to make,
Or I shall live your epitaph to make,
Or you survive when I in earth am rotten,
From hence your memory death cannot take,
Although in me each part will be forgotten.
Your name from hence immortal life shall have,
Though I, once gone, to all the world must die:
The earth can yield me but a common grave,
When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie.
Your monument shall be my gentle verse,
Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read;
And tongues to be, your being shall rehearse,
When all the breathers of this world are dead;
You still shall live, such virtue hath my pen,
Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.
Or you survive when I in earth am rotten,
From hence your memory death cannot take,
Although in me each part will be forgotten.
Your name from hence immortal life shall have,
Though I, once gone, to all the world must die:
The earth can yield me but a common grave,
When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie.
Your monument shall be my gentle verse,
Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read;
And tongues to be, your being shall rehearse,
When all the breathers of this world are dead;
You still shall live, such virtue hath my pen,
Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.
1 Comments:
Or I shall live to make your epitaph,
Or you survive when I am rotten in earth,
Death cannot take your memory from hence,
Although each part in me will be forgotten.
Immortal life shall have your name from hence,
Though once gone, I must die to all the world:
The earth can yield me but a common grave,
When you shall lie entombed in men's eyes.
Your monument shall be my gentle verse,
Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read;
And your being shall rehearse tongues to be
When all the breathers of this world are dead;
Such virtue hath my pen, still you shall live
Even in the mouths of men, where breath most breathes.
By
Jorielle, at Saturday, December 11, 2004 2:48:00 PM
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