The Relic

by John Donne

　　 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

　　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 mass-devotion doth command,

　　 Then he that digs us up will bring

　　 Us to the bishop or 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 we never knew,

　　 No more than guardian angels do;

　　 Coming and going we

　　Perchance might kiss, but not between those meals;

　　 Our hands ne'er touch'd 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.