John Donne

Here you will find the Poem Elegy:The End of Funeral Elegies of poet John Donne

Elegy:The End of Funeral Elegies

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 
Dying, of you do beg a legacy. 

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 seest what thou art now, 
Yet thou 'rt not yet so good ; till death us lay 
To ripe and mellow there, 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, 
Our souls become worm-eaten carcases.