Rosemary and Pansies/Suggested by Shakespeare's Seventy-first Sonnet
SUGGESTED BY SHAKESPEARE'S SEVENTY-FIRST SONNET
Who mourned for the great poet when he died And left the universe without his peer? Not England, heedless of her greatest pride, Nor he whom most he loved and praised, I fear. His fellows, his relations, and a friend, Or two perchance, his coffin gathered round, But no high-stationed patron saw the end, Or sent a token of his grief profound.
He, destined to preserve his country's name When an its other glories are forgot, Here begs, in deep humility and shame, To be, even by his friend, remembered not: But while that friend compounded is with day, All Time is now our poet's endless day.