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Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury. 1875.

William Shakespeare

XLVIII. Post Mortem

IF thou survive my well-contented day

When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover,

And shalt by fortune once more re-survey

These poor rude lines of thy deceasèd lover,

Compare them with the bettering of the time;

And though they be outstripp’d by every pen,

Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme

Exceeded by the height of happier men.

O then vouchsafe me but this loving thought—

“Had my friend’s Muse grown with this growing age,

A dearer birth than this his love had brought,

To march in ranks of better equipage:

But since he died, and poets better prove,

Theirs for their style I’ll read, his for his love.”