Sonnet 55

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments

Of princes shall outlive this pow’rful rhyme;

But you shall shine more bright in these contents

Than unswept stone besmear’d with sluttish time.

When wasteful war shall statues overturn,

And broils root out the work of masonry,

Nor Mars his sword, nor war’s quick fire shall burn

The living record of your memory.

’Gainst 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 judgment that yourself arise,

You live in this, and dwell in lover’s eyes.

Not a statue, not luck, no monument to power,

No money in the world will outlive these lines.

Love, you’ll last longer than the strongest dollar,

The highest tower, the deepest mines.

When war turns everything upside-down

And riots break out and scorch the houses,

Not Ares, no gas, no bombs, no drone

Will ever destroy the one this poem addresses.

Defying all death, all oblivious hatred,

You’ll keep up your stride, always find a road.

Love, you are forever fated

To be known, as long as this world’s someone’s abode.

Until the Day of Judgment, when resurrected you arise,

You’ll live here among thorns, fragrant as a rose.