Or I shall live your epitaph to make, <br />Or you survive when I in earth am rotten, <br />From hence your memory death cannot take, <br />Although in me each part will be forgotten. <br />Your name from hence immortal life shall have, <br />Though I, once gone, to all the world must die; <br />The earth can yield me but a common grave, <br />When you entombèd in men's eyes shall lie. <br />Your monument shall be my gentle verse, <br />Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read, <br />And tongues to be your being shall rehearse <br />When all the breathers of this world are dead. <br /> You still shall live—such virtue hath my pen— <br /> Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-81-or-i-shall-live-your-epitaph-to-make/
