Shakesapeare's #71

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.
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.

Shakespeare's #71 was Mark Van Doren's favorite, the only sonnet (he felt) in which the closing couplet is not a mere afterthought or summary.  What's your favorite?

Comments

[Jonathan and Taylor Swift]

To be, or not to be: that is the question.
But it's an unfair equation.