The Relic

When my grave is broke up again Some second guest to entertain, For graves have grown, it seems, less cold, And in this warmth, love behold.

With sense lost, our trophies ghosted back Lay what lies corpsed, beneath the crack. Since none are sure of death, nor day, Where will thy petals take their stay?

Unfold those thoughts—to clasp—to savor Yet, O Nature, let it show thy favor: Take not such time as we doth now collect, For, transient guile, I need not reflect.

Take away the stone, and I shall find All that went there, buried and entwined. From garden sweet as days must fade the bloom, Gather my soul to bring it back from doom.

So we shall join to hear nature’s call, And make these fragrant bursts of blossoms all. Those steeped shallow waters not forget, In death sweet perfumes climb our fret!

Now, when we meet, I’ll breath our trust, As love—forever cherished—will not rust.

• John Donne