If I were to use it in such a context it would require a footnote. He didn't do the digging himself and did not even attend the ghastly procedure, which was organised by one Charles Augustus Howell (known as "Owl" because one of the other muses had a cockney accent, which amused the Brotherhood no end).
It was Howell who started the story that her corpse was undecayed and that her glorious red hair (under which DGR had tucked his notebook) had continued to grow until it filled the coffin. Thus the poet could continue to believe in the permanence of his Beata Beatrix. The actual condition of the book belied the pretty notion, as not only had the worms had a good go at it, it had been treated with disinfectant at the graveside by a Dr. Llewellyn Williams who had been instructed to do this "if necessary".
Times have changed since then. I married my partner in the Intensive Care ward of our local hospital and the Chief Registrar conducted the ceremony complete with rubber gloves and the actual Register of the County of Monmouth. Since my new husband had picked up Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus Aureus in the course of his treatment, the chief witness (Senior Anaesthetist) had to spray the book as it left the ward...
(Shut up, Annie...)
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