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Not Marble nor the Gilded Monuments

William Shakespeare

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• 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, besmear’d with sluttish time.

• When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
• 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
• Even in the eyes of all posterity

• That wear this world out to the ending doom.

• So, till the judgment that yourself arise,
• You live in this, and dwell in lovers’ eyes.