Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury. 1875.
William Shakespeare XLVIII. Post MortemI
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover,
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceasèd lover,
And though they be outstripp’d by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme
Exceeded by the height of happier men.
“Had my friend’s Muse grown with this growing age,
A dearer birth than this his love had brought,
To march in ranks of better equipage:
Theirs for their style I’ll read, his for his love.”