SHAKESPEARE’S SONNET 71 REDUX

O, do not mourn for me when I am gone—

Not merely mourn—but wail and gnash and groan!

Yea, pull out all the stops, from night till dawn,

And for a full year after, weep and moan.

For, dearest lady, I deserve this state,

Nor would you wish to pay a lower fee

Than miserable sobs that ne’er abate,

All for the woeful loss of precious me.

But yet I should some pity show on you

And from your grieving give you some relief,

Though mournful lamentations are my due—

Let’s say, one day a week, give o’er your grief

     And think instead of how you loved me true,

     As I deserved, for which I loved you, too.

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