Not marble, nor the gilded monumentsOf princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme,But you shall shine more bright in these contentsThan unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time.
When wasteful war shall statues overturn,And broils root out the work of masonry,Nor Mars his sword, nor war's quick fire shall burn:
The living record of your memory.
'Gainst death, and all-oblivious enmityShall you pace forth, your praise shall still find room,Even in the eyes of all posterityThat wear this world out to the ending doom.
So till the judgment that your self arise,You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes.
