| Herbert J.C. Grierson, ed. (1886–1960). Metaphysical Lyrics & Poems of the 17th C. 1921. |
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| John Donne |
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| 15. The Funerall |
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| WHO ever comes to shroud me, do not harme | |
| Nor question much | |
| That subtile wreath of haire, which crowns my arme; | |
| The mystery, the signe you must not touch, | |
| For'tis my outward Soule, | 5 |
| Viceroy to that, which then to heaven being gone, | |
| Will leave this to controule, | |
| And keepe these limbes, her Provinces, from dissolution. | |
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| For if the sinewie thread my braine lets fall | |
| Through every part, | 10 |
| Can tye those parts, and make mee one of all; | |
| These haires which upward grew, and strength and art | |
| Have from a better braine, | |
| Can better do'it; Except she meant that I | |
| By this should know my pain, | 15 |
| As prisoners then are manacled, when they'are condemn'd to die. | |
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| What ere shee meant by'it, bury it with me, | |
| For since I am | |
| Loves martyr, it might breed idolatrie, | |
| If into others hands these Reliques came; | 20 |
| As'twas humility | |
| To afford to it all that a Soule can doe, | |
| So,'tis some bravery, | |
| That since you would save none of mee, I bury some of you. | |
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