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| Not marble, nor the gilded monuments | 1 |
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| Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; |
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| But you shall shine more bright in these contents |
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| Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. |
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| When wasteful war shall statues overturn, | 5 |
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| And broils root out the work of masonry, |
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| Nor Mars his sword, nor war's quick fire shall burn |
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| The living record of your memory. |
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| 'Gainst death, and all-oblivious enmity |
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| Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room | 10 |
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| Even in the eyes of all posterity |
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| That wear this world out to the ending doom. |
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 So, till the judgment that yourself arise, |
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| You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes. |
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