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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=419690" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Elegy:The End of Funeral Elegies</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=419690" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">MADAM—<br>That I might make your cabinet my tomb, <br>And for my fame, which I love next my soul, <br>Next to my soul provide the happiest room, <br>Admit to that place this last funeral scroll. <br>Others by wills give legacies, but I <br>Dying, of you do beg a legacy. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=419690" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">My fortune and my will this custom break, <br>When we are senseless grown to make stones speak, <br>Though no stone tell thee what I was, yet thou <br>In my grave's inside seest what thou art now, <br>Yet thou 'rt not yet so good ; till death us lay <br>To ripe and mellow there, we're stubborn clay. <br>Parents make us earth, and souls dignify <br>Us to be glass ; here to grow gold we lie. <br>Whilst in our souls sin bred and pamper'd is, <br>Our souls become worm-eaten carcases.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=John+Donne">John Donne</a></strong></div>

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