No longer mourn for me when I am dead, <br />Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell <br />Give warning to the world that I am fled <br />From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell: <br />Nay if you read this line, remember not, <br />The hand that writ it, for I love you so, <br />That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, <br />If thinking on me then should make you woe. <br />O if (I say) you look upon this verse, <br />When I (perhaps) compounded am with clay, <br />Do not so much as my poor name rehearse; <br />But let your love even with my life decay. <br />Lest the wise world should look into your moan, <br />And mock you with me after I am gone.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-71-no-longer-mourn-for-me-when-i-am-dead-2/
