Public-domain source text

Resurrection, Imperfect

by John Donne

From Standard Ebooks · standardebooks/john-donne_poetry

Sleep, sleep, old sun, thou canst not have repass’d, As yet, the wound thou took’st on Friday last; Sleep then, and rest; the world may bear thy stay; A better sun rose before thee today; Who⁠—not content to enlighten all that dwell On the earth’s face, as thou⁠—enlighten’d hell, And made the dark fires languish in that vale, As at thy presence here our fires grow pale; Whose body, having walk’d on earth, and now Hasting to heaven, would⁠—that He might allow Himself unto all stations, and fill all⁠— For these three days become a mineral. He was all gold when He lay down, but rose All tincture, and doth not alone dispose Leaden and iron wills to good, but is Of power to make e’en sinful flesh like his. Had one of those, whose credulous piety Thought that a soul one might discern and see Go from a body, at this sepulchre been, And, issuing from the sheet, this body seen, He would have justly thought this body a soul, If not of any man, yet of the whole.
Desunt Caetera.

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