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 **** 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 .
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