William Shakespeare. 1564–1616

Sonnet LXXI.

“No longer mourn for me when I am dead”

NO longer mourn for me when I am dead  
Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell  
Give warning to the world that I am fled  
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:  
Nay, if you read this line, remember not    5
The hand that writ it; for I love you so,  
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,  
If thinking on me then should make you woe.  
O! if,—I say, you look upon this verse,  
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,   10
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,  
But let your love even with my life decay;  
  Lest the wise world should look into your moan,  
  And mock you with me after I am gone.