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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE FIRST DAY: THE BIRDS OF KILLINGWORTH by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 82. HOARDED JOY by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI SONNET: 60 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE AN EVENING LULL by WALT WHITMAN THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH: BOOK 3. ON WASHING by JOHN ARMSTRONG GRISELDA: CHAPTER 4 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: COUNT RINALDO RINALDI by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |