William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

Sonnet Lxxxi - Poem by William Shakespeare

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 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.


Comments about Sonnet Lxxxi by William Shakespeare

  • Mohammed Asim Nehal (1/4/2018 12:00:00 PM)


    Superb Poem, He was indeed the master of this art, (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Brian Jani (4/26/2014 1:34:00 PM)


    Awesome I like this poem, check mine out  (Report) Reply

  • (11/20/2013 6:54:00 PM)


    and the loved one still lives through the virtue of his pen.... beautifully written (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: memory, world, death, life, sonnet



Poem Submitted: Monday, May 21, 2001



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