Who ever comes to shroud me, do not harme
Nor question much
That subtile wreath of haire, which crowns my arme;
The mystery, the signe you must not touch,
For 'tis my outward Soule,
Viceroy to that, which then to heaven being gone,
Will leave this to controule,
And keepe these limbes, her Provinces, from dissolution.
For if the sinewie thread my braine lets fall
Through every part,
Can tye those parts, and make mee one of all;
These haires which upward grew, and strength and art
Have from a better braine,
Can better do'it; Except she meant that I
By this should know my pain,
As prisoners then are manacled, when they'are condemn'd to die.
What ere shee meant by'it, bury it with me,
For since I am
Loves martyr, it might breed idolatrie,
If into others hands these Reliques came;
As'twas humility
To afford to it all that a Soule can doe,
So,'tis some bravery,
That since you would save none of mee, I bury some of you.
I am busy working to bring John Donne's "The Funerall" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you soon.
At V2Melody, each arrangement is crafted with care through a thoughtful partnership of human artistry and technological innovation. This process involves:
This creative journey takes time—each composition represents hours of dedicated work to create something that deepens our connection to John Donne's words in meaningful ways.
While you wait for the complete interpretation, I invite you to explore other musical arrangements in my gallery or learn more about John Donne's life and contributions to literature.
Check back soon to experience how "The Funerall" transforms when verse meets melody—a unique journey that makes poetry accessible, engaging, and profoundly moving in new ways.