Poem Hunter
Sonnet Lxxxi
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

Sonnet Lxxxi

Poem By William Shakespeare

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
When all the breathers of this world are dead;
You still shall live--such virtue hath my pen--
Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.

User Rating: 4,6 / 5 ( 4 votes ) 4

Comments (4)

Superb poem. You still shall live- such virtue hath my pen- Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths
Superb Poem, He was indeed the master of this art,
Awesome I like this poem, check mine out 
and the loved one still lives through the virtue of his pen.... beautifully written