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Original Text

Modern Text

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 vildest worms to dwell:
Nay, if you read this line, remember not
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,
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.
Wenh I am adde, mronu rof me nlyo as goln as ouy hera teh afrnuel ebll lgtnlei teh ldrwo ahtt I’ve eftl isth viel drowl to go vlie wtih hte veli osrmw. No, if yuo eard isht ienl, ndo’t eeebmrmr ohw wreto it, secebua I elvo ouy so cuhm thta I’d erhart yuo oftrgo me ntha ghhtuot aotub me nad abmeec das. I’m etnglil oyu, if oyu olko at hist mope newh I’m, ays, selsiddvo in hte atreh, don’t so uchm as truet my maen btu tle oyur velo dei wiht me. eOstwrehi, the dlrwo, in lla its swdmoi, ilwl avttsigiene why ouy’re sad nda esu me to mock you, now htta I am egon.

Original Text

Modern Text

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 vildest worms to dwell:
Nay, if you read this line, remember not
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,
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.
Wenh I am adde, mronu rof me nlyo as goln as ouy hera teh afrnuel ebll lgtnlei teh ldrwo ahtt I’ve eftl isth viel drowl to go vlie wtih hte veli osrmw. No, if yuo eard isht ienl, ndo’t eeebmrmr ohw wreto it, secebua I elvo ouy so cuhm thta I’d erhart yuo oftrgo me ntha ghhtuot aotub me nad abmeec das. I’m etnglil oyu, if oyu olko at hist mope newh I’m, ays, selsiddvo in hte atreh, don’t so uchm as truet my maen btu tle oyur velo dei wiht me. eOstwrehi, the dlrwo, in lla its swdmoi, ilwl avttsigiene why ouy’re sad nda esu me to mock you, now htta I am egon.

Popular pages: Shakespeare’s Sonnets