William Shakespeare
Warwickshire
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Sonnet Lxxi

Rating: 4.9
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:
Nay, if you read this line, remember not
The hand that writ it; for I love you so
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
O, if, I say, you look upon this verse
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse.
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COMMENTS
Brian Jani 26 April 2014
Awesome I like this poem, check mine out
2 8 Reply

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