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Or I shall live...
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your epitaph to make...
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Or you survive ...
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|
when I in earth am rotten;
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From hence your memory
|
death cannot take,
|
|
Although in me
|
each part will be forgotten.
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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.
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Your monument shall be
|
|
my gentle verse,
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Which eyes not yet created
|
shall o'er-read,
|
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And tongues to be
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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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AB...IN...SOLITUDE...
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