William Shakespeare

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme;
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone, besmear’d with sluttish time.
When wasteful war will statues overturn,
And broils root out the work of masonry,
Nor Mars’s his sword nor war’s quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory.
‘Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room,
Even in eyes of all posterity
That wear this word out to the ending doom.
  So, till the judgment that yourself arise,
  You live in this, and dwell in lovers’ eyes.