Verse > Anthologies > Francis T. Palgrave, ed. > The Golden Treasury
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Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury.  1875.
 
W. Shakespeare
 
XLIX. The Triumph of Death
 
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. 
 
 
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