Page 2001 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4
P. 2001

55    IT



               Not marble, not the gilded monuments

               Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme;
               But you shall shine more bright in these contents
               Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time.
               When wasteful war shall statues overturn,

               And broils root out the work of masonry,
               Nor Mars’s sword nor war’s quick fire shall burn
               The living record of your memory.
               ’Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity

               Shall you pace forth: your praise shall still find room
               Even in the eyes of all posterity
               That wear this world out to the ending doom.
                               So, till the judgment that yourself arise,

                               You live in this, and dwell in lovers’ eyes.
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