| |
| WHEN my grave is broke up again | |
| Some second guest to entertain, | |
| —For graves have learn’d that woman-head, | |
| To be to more than one a bed— | |
| And he that digs it, spies | 5 |
| A bracelet of bright hair about the bone, | |
| Will not he 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 | 10 |
| Meet at this grave, and make a little stay? | |
| |
| If this fall in a time, or land, | |
| Where mass-devotion 1 doth command, | |
| Then he that digs us up will bring | |
| Us to the bishop or the king, 2 | 15 |
| 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, | 20 |
| 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 we never knew, 3 | 25 |
| No more 4 than guardian angels do; | |
| Coming and going we | |
| Perchance might kiss, but not between 5 those meals; | |
| Our hands ne’er touch’d the seals, | |
| Which nature, injured by late law, sets free. 6 | 30 |
| These miracles we did; but now alas! | |
| All measure, and all language, I should pass, | |
| Should I tell what a miracle she was. | |
