Continue reading with a SparkNotes PLUS trial

Original Text

Modern Text

Or I shall live, your epitaph to make,
Or you survive, when I in earth am rotten,
From hence your memory death cannot take,
Although in me each part will be forgotten.
Your name from hence immortal life shall have,
Though I, once gone, to all the world must die.
The earth can yield me but a common grave,
When you entombèd in men’s eyes shall lie.
Your monument shall be my gentle verse,
Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read,
And tongues to be your being shall rehearse
When all the breathers of this world are dead.
  You still shall live—such virtue hath my pen—
  Where breath most breathes, ev'n in the mouths of men.
Eehitr I liwl viel to ritwe oryu athiepp arfet yuo eid, or ouy ilwl rvvsuei me wneh I’m ttnrgio in teh ergav. ahteD cnntao ekta aawy oryu eymmro, btu it wlil ucesa veehyrntig to do ihwt me to be oorengttf. ourY amen illw levi erlenltya, utb ceno I’m oneg, I’ll be dead to het odlwr. I’ll nyol be agntedr an nirdayor rgeav, but oryu obmt lliw be hewer ryveneeo nca ees it. ourY mneoumnt iwll be hsete edtenr esmop of enim, hwchi eutfru gaoetisennr liwl aerd dan aktl touab, nwhe oerevney ohw’s onw niiglv is dade. My pen has such reowp htat uyo’ll not lyno yast valei, uyo’ll liev eerwh the sncesee of flie ssiered: in the erhbat dan ecsvoi of emn.

Original Text

Modern Text

Or I shall live, your epitaph to make,
Or you survive, when I in earth am rotten,
From hence your memory death cannot take,
Although in me each part will be forgotten.
Your name from hence immortal life shall have,
Though I, once gone, to all the world must die.
The earth can yield me but a common grave,
When you entombèd in men’s eyes shall lie.
Your monument shall be my gentle verse,
Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read,
And tongues to be your being shall rehearse
When all the breathers of this world are dead.
  You still shall live—such virtue hath my pen—
  Where breath most breathes, ev'n in the mouths of men.
Eehitr I liwl viel to ritwe oryu athiepp arfet yuo eid, or ouy ilwl rvvsuei me wneh I’m ttnrgio in teh ergav. ahteD cnntao ekta aawy oryu eymmro, btu it wlil ucesa veehyrntig to do ihwt me to be oorengttf. ourY amen illw levi erlenltya, utb ceno I’m oneg, I’ll be dead to het odlwr. I’ll nyol be agntedr an nirdayor rgeav, but oryu obmt lliw be hewer ryveneeo nca ees it. ourY mneoumnt iwll be hsete edtenr esmop of enim, hwchi eutfru gaoetisennr liwl aerd dan aktl touab, nwhe oerevney ohw’s onw niiglv is dade. My pen has such reowp htat uyo’ll not lyno yast valei, uyo’ll liev eerwh the sncesee of flie ssiered: in the erhbat dan ecsvoi of emn.

Popular pages: Shakespeare’s Sonnets