Classic Poem

Thou need'st no tomb, my wife, for thou hast one,
To which all marble is but pumex stone;
Thou art engrav'd so deeply in my heart,
It shall outlast the strongest hand of Art.
Death shall not blot thee thence, although I must
In all my other parts dissolve to dust;
For thy dear name, thy happy memory,
May so embalm it for eternity,
That when I rise, the name of my dear wife
Shall there be seen as in the book of life.