The Relic

• 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
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.