| Not marble, nor 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, | 5 |
| And broils root out the work of masonry, | |
| Nor Mars his 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, | 10 |
| Even in the eyes of all posterity | |
| That wear this world out to the ending doom. | |
| So till the judgment that your self arise, | |
| You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes. | |