Tuesday, August 31, 2010

another favourite poem

"The Relic" by John Donne

When my grave is broken up again
    Some second guest to entertain
    (For graves have learned that woman-head
    To be to more than one a bed),
      And he that digs it, spies
A bracelet of bright hair about the bone,
      Will he not let'us alone,
    And think that there a loving couple lies,
      Who thought that this device might be some way
      To make their souls, at the last busy day,
      Meet at this grave, and make a little stay?

    If this fall in a time, or land,
    Where mis-devotion doth command,
    Then he that digs us up, will bring
    Us to the Bishop and the King,

      To make us relics; then
Thou shalt be'a Mary Magdalen, and I
      A something else thereby;
    All women shall adore us, and some men;
      And since at such time, miracles are sought,
      I would have that age by this paper taught
      What miracles we harmless lovers wrought.
    First, we loved well and faithfully,
    Yet knew not what we loved, nor why,
    Difference of sex no more we knew,
    Than our guardian angels do;
      Coming and going, we
Perchance might kiss, but not between those meals;
    Our hands ne'er touched the seals,
Which nature, injured by late law, sets free: These miracles we did; but now, alas,
All measure and all language I should pass,
Should I tell what a miracle she was.

1 comment:

Sally Westcott said...

46 is a really good number! Don't stress!

I can't read the poem, I know it! - too many memories for that one! I will some time but not now!

I just love the photo! Is that one of yours? If it is - how did you do it! It looks so much like the poppies I'm playing with at the moment. The photo is stunning!

BTW - Happy birthday! All birthdays are good - it means we are still here ans we still love where we are!


(I'm 10 years older than you are and life looks amazing from where I am!

If I got this wrong I'll crawl back to my safe little rock.