Let no man carve upon my monument,
Thinking to honor what he loved of me,
When I shall rest: “He had no enemy”—
O not to this, believe me, was I sent;
Even as I labor with my own intent
For sun and stars and earth's security,
I get myself good haters—let them be:
Carve not this slander on my monument.

“Nay,” but I seem to hear my friends protest,
Who, though for me still ready to combat,
So often are given to untimely jest:
“We, who have known the breed you're railing at
And found you most yourself when angriest,
Will spare you any pleasantry like that.”