Build over me no marble monument,
To stand for ever high above the throng;
Weave not my name in any wreath of song,
Hang up no picture of my life's event.

The lasting stone would mock thy brief lament
Witness thy short affection over long,
The steadfast words thy changing passion wrong,
The painted features cry “Repent! repent!”

Live and forget me. Farewell! Better so,
Than that I should be made the scorn of men,
Who mark the pageantry of grief, the show
Of feeling lighter than the wind, and then,
With lifted eyebrows, smile and whisper “Lo!
A year is past, Admetus weds again!”