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УИЛЬЯМ ШЕКСПИР

55th SONNET

Nor marble, nor the gilded [monuments]
Of princes, shall outlive this pow’rful rhyme,
But you shall shine more bright in these content
Than unswept stone, besmear’d with sluttish time.
When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
And broils root out the work of masorny,
Nor Mars his sword nor war’s quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory.
’Gaints death and all-oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom.
So till the judgement that yourself arise,
You live in this, and dwell in lovers’ eyes.