John Donne

All kings, and all their favourites, All glory of honors, beauties, wits The sun itself, which makes times, as they pass, Is elder by a year, now, than it was When thou and I first one another saw: All other things, to their destruction …

He which hath business, and makes love, doth do Such wrong, as when a married man doth woo.

'Tis true, 'tis day; what though it be? O wilt thou therefore rise from me? Why should we rise, because 'tis light? Did we lie down, because 'twas night? Love which in spite of darkness brought us hither Should in despite of light keep us …

Stay, O sweet, and do not rise; The light that shines comes from thine eyes; The day breaks not, it is my heart, Because that you and I must part. Stay, or else my joys will die, And perish in their infancy.

Just such disparity As is ’twixt air and angels’ purity, ’Twixt women’s love, and men’s will ever be.

Twice and thrice had I loved thee, Before I knew thy face or name; So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, Angels affect us oft, and worshipp'd be. Still when, to where thou wert, I came, Some lovely glorious nothing did I see.

For I had rather owner be Of thee one hour, than all else ever.

Oh wrangling schools, that search what fire Shall burn this world, had none the wit Unto this knowledge to aspire, That this her fever might be it?

Oh do not die, for I shall hate All women so, when thou art gone.

When I died last, and dear, I die As often as from thee I go.

But think that we Are but turned aside to sleep.

Yesternight the sun went hence, And yet is here today.

Sweetest love, I do not go, For weariness of thee, Nor in hope the world can show A fitter love for me; But since that I Must die at last, 'tis best,

Who are a little wise, the best fools be.

I am two fools, I know, For loving, and for saying so In whining poetry.

As well a well-wrought urn becomes The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs.

The Phoenix riddle hath more wit By us, we two being one, are it. So to one neutral thing both sexes fit, We die and rise the same, and prove Mysterious by this love.

Alas! alas! who's injured by my love? What merchant's ships have my sighs drown'd? Who says my tears have overflow'd his ground? When did my colds a forward spring remove? When did the heats which my veins fill Add one more to the plaguy …

For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love; Or chide my palsy, or my gout; My five gray hairs, or ruin'd fortune flout; With wealth your state, your mind with arts improve; Take you a course, get you a place, Observe his Honour, or …

And dare love that, and say so too, And forget the He and She.

But he who loveliness within Hath found, all outward loathes, For he who color loves, and skin, Loves but their oldest clothes.

I have done one braver thing Than all the Worthies did; And yet a braver thence doth spring, Which is to keep that hid.

And swear No where Lives a woman true and fair. If thou find'st one, let me know, Such a pilgrimage were sweet; Yet do not, I would not go,

Go and catch a falling star, Get with child a mandrake root, Tell me where all past years are, Or who cleft the Devil's foot, Teach me to hear mermaids singing, Or to keep off envy's stinging,