William Shakespeare
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Sonnet Lxxxi

Rating: 4.6
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
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Shreya Hacks 31 July 2020
Superb poem. You still shall live- such virtue hath my pen- Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths
0 0 Reply
M Asim Nehal 04 January 2018
Superb Poem, He was indeed the master of this art,
1 0 Reply
Brian Jani 26 April 2014
Awesome I like this poem, check mine out 
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* Sunprincess * 20 November 2013
and the loved one still lives through the virtue of his pen.... beautifully written
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