|
As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends
do say,
"The breath goes now," and some say, "No,"
So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;
'Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.
|
Showing posts with label John Donne. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Donne. Show all posts
Wednesday, 30 May 2012
A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning by John Donne
Friday, 6 April 2012
THE GOOD-MORROW
THE GOOD-MORROW.
by John Donne
I WONDER by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved ? were we not wean'd till then ?
But suck'd on country pleasures, childishly ?
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den ?
'Twas so ; but this, all pleasures fancies be ;
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.
by John Donne
I WONDER by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved ? were we not wean'd till then ?
But suck'd on country pleasures, childishly ?
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den ?
'Twas so ; but this, all pleasures fancies be ;
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)