No longer mourn for me when I am dead, br Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell br Give warning to the world that I am fled br From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell: br Nay if you read this line, remember not, br The hand that writ it, for I love you so, br That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, br If thinking on me then should make you woe. br O if (I say) you look upon this verse, br When I (perhaps) compounded am with clay, br Do not so much as my poor name rehearse; br But let your love even with my life decay. br Lest the wise world should look into your moan, br And mock you with me after I am gone.