The Golden Treasury of English Songs and Lyrics/Book 1/Poem 48
Jump to navigation
Jump to search
For other versions of this work, see Sonnet 32 (Shakespeare).
xlviii
POST MORTEM
If Thou survive my well-contented day
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover,
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceaséd lover;
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover,
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceaséd lover;
Compare them with the bettering of the time,
And though they be outstripp’d by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme
Exceeded by the height of happier men.
And though they be outstripp’d by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme
Exceeded by the height of happier men.
O then vouchsafe me but this loving thought—
‘Had my friend’s muse grown with this growing age,
A dearer birth than this his love had brought,
To march in ranks of better equipage:
‘Had my friend’s muse grown with this growing age,
A dearer birth than this his love had brought,
To march in ranks of better equipage:
But since he died, and poets better prove,
Theirs for their style I’ll read, his for his love.’
W. Shakespeare
Theirs for their style I’ll read, his for his love.’
W. Shakespeare