| Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury. 1875. |
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| W. Shakespeare |
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| XLIX. The Triumph of Death |
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| 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. | |
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| 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. | |
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| 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; | |
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| Lest the wise world should look into your moan, | |
| And mock you with me after I am gone. | |
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