| John Donne (1572–1631). The Poems of John Donne. 1896. | | | | Epicedes and Obsequies upon the Death of Sundry Personages | | Elegy |
| | MADAM,
That I might make your cabinet my tomb, | |
| And for my fame, which I love next my soul, | |
| Next to my soul provide the happiest room, | |
| Admit to that place this last funeral scroll. | |
| Others by wills give legacies, but I | 5 |
| Dying, of you do beg a legacy. | |
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| My fortune and my will this custom break, | |
| When we are senseless grown to make stones speak, | |
| Though no stone tell thee what I was, yet thou | |
| In my grave’s inside see what thou art now, | 10 |
| Yet thou ’rt not yet so good; till us death lay | |
| To ripe and mellow there, 1 we’re stubborn clay. | |
| Parents make us earth, and souls dignify | |
| Us to be glass; here to grow gold we lie. | |
| Whilst in our souls sin bred and pamper’d is, | 15 |
Our souls become worm-eaten carcases.
THE END OF FUNERAL ELEGIES. | |
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