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 breathes 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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