When dark shall seem thy day that never clears,
And all lies wither’d that was held so dear,
Then take this picture which I here present thee,
Limn’d with a pencil not all unworthy:
Here see the gifts that God and Nature lent thee;
Here read thy self, and what I suffer’d for thee.
This may remain thy lasting monument,
Which happily posterity may cherish;
These colors with thy fading are not spent;
These may remain, when thou and I shall perish.
If they remain, then thou shalt live thereby;
They will remain, and so thou canst not die.