The Poems of John Donne, Volume 1 (of 2) / Edited from the Old Editions and Numerous Manuscripts

SOME man unworthy to be possessor

Of old or new love, himselfe being false or weake,

Thought his paine and shame would be lesser,

If on womankind he might his anger wreake,

  5And thence a law did grow,

One might but one man know;

But are other creatures so?

Are Sunne, Moone, or Starres by law forbidden,

To smile where they list, or lend away their light?

10Are birds divorc'd, or are they chidden

If they leave their mate, or lie abroad a night?

Beasts doe no joyntures lose

Though they new lovers choose,

But we are made worse then those.

15Who e'r rigg'd faire ship to lie in harbors,

And not to seeke new lands, or not to deale withall?

Or built faire houses, set trees, and arbors,

Only to lock up, or else to let them fall?

Good is not good, unlesse

20A thousand it possesse,

But doth wast with greedinesse.

D EARE love, for nothing lesse then thee

  Would I have broke this happy dreame,

It was a theame

For reason, much too strong for phantasie,

  5Therefore thou wakd'st me wisely; yet

My Dreame thou brok'st not, but continued'st it,

Thou art so truth, that thoughts of thee suffice,

To make dreames truths; and fables histories;

Enter these armes, for since thou thoughtst it best,

10Not to dreame all my dreame, let's act the rest.

As lightning, or a Tapers light,

Thine eyes, and not thy noise wak'd mee;

Yet I thought thee

(For thou lovest truth) an Angell, at first sight,

15But when I saw thou sawest my heart,

And knew'st my thoughts, beyond an Angels art,

When thou knew'st what I dreamt, when thou knew'st when

Excesse of joy would wake me, and cam'st then,

I must confesse, it could not chuse but bee

20Prophane, to thinke thee any thing but thee.

Comming and staying show'd thee, thee,

But rising makes me doubt, that now,

Thou art not thou.

That love is weake, where feare's as strong as hee;

25'Tis not all spirit, pure, and brave,

If mixture it of Feare, Shame, Honor, have.

Perchance as torches which must ready bee,

Men light and put out, so thou deal'st with mee,

Thou cam'st to kindle, goest to come; Then I

30Will dreame that hope againe, but else would die.

O more then Moone,

20Draw not up seas to drowne me in thy spheare,

Weepe me not dead, in thine armes, but forbeare

To teach the sea, what it may doe too soone;

Let not the winde

Example finde,

25To doe me more harme, then it purposeth;

Since thou and I sigh one anothers breath,

Who e'r sighes most, is cruellest, and hasts the others death.

Endure the short scorne of a Bridegroomes play?

That loving wretch that sweares,

'Tis not the bodies marry, but the mindes,

20Which he in her Angelique findes,

Would sweare as justly, that he heares,

In that dayes rude hoarse minstralsey, the spheares.

Hope not for minde in women; at their best

Sweetnesse and wit, they'are but Mummy, possest.

Though parents grudge, and you, w'are met,

15And cloysterd in these living walls of Jet.

Though use make you apt to kill mee,

Let not to that, selfe murder added bee,

And sacrilege, three sinnes in killing three.

Cruell and sodaine, hast thou since

20Purpled thy naile, in blood of innocence?

Wherein could this flea guilty bee,

Except in that drop which it suckt from thee?

Yet thou triumph'st, and saist that thou

Find'st not thy selfe, nor mee the weaker now;

25'Tis true, then learne how false, feares bee;

Just so much honor, when thou yeeld'st to mee,

Will wast, as this flea's death tooke life from thee.

Madnesse his sorrow, gout his cramp, may hee

10Make, by but thinking, who hath made him such:

And may he feele no touch

Of conscience, but of fame, and bee

Anguish'd, not that'twas sinne, but that'twas shee:

In early and long scarcenesse may he rot,

15For land which had been his, if he had not

Himselfe incestuously an heire begot:

May he dreame Treason, and beleeve, that hee

Meant to performe it, and confesse, and die,

And no record tell why:

20His sonnes, which none of his may bee,

Inherite nothing but his infamie:

Or may he so long Parasites have fed,

That he would faine be theirs, whom he hath bred,

And at the last be circumcis'd for bread:

25The venom of all stepdames, gamsters gall,

What Tyrans, and their subjects interwish,

What Plants, Mynes, Beasts, Foule, Fish,

Can contribute, all ill which all

Prophets, or Poets spake; And all which shall

30Be annex'd in schedules unto this by mee,

Fall on that man; For if it be a shee

Nature before hand hath out-cursed mee.

S END home my long strayd eyes to mee,

Which (Oh) too long have dwelt on thee;

Yet since there they have learn'd such ill,

Such forc'd fashions,

  5And false passions,

That they be

Made by thee

Fit for no good sight, keep them still.

Send home my harmlesse heart againe,

10Which no unworthy thought could staine;

But if it be taught by thine

To make jestings

Of protestings,

And crosse both

15Word and oath,

Keepe it, for then 'tis none of mine.

Yet send me back my heart and eyes,

That I may know, and see thy lyes,

And may laugh and joy, when thou

20Art in anguish

And dost languish

For some one

That will none,

Or prove as false as thou art now.

TIS the yeares midnight, and it is the dayes,

Lucies, who scarce seaven houres herself unmaskes,

The Sunne is spent, and now his flasks

Send forth light squibs, no constant rayes;

  5The worlds whole sap is sunke:

The generall balme th'hydroptique earth hath drunk,

Whither, as to the beds-feet, life is shrunke,

Dead and enterr'd; yet all these seeme to laugh,

Compar'd with mee, who am their Epitaph.

10Study me then, you who shall lovers bee

At the next world, that is, at the next Spring:

For I am every dead thing,

In whom love wrought new Alchimie.

For his art did expresse

15A quintessence even from nothingnesse,

From dull privations, and leane emptinesse:

He ruin'd mee, and I am re-begot

Of absence, darknesse, death; things which are not.

All others, from all things, draw all that's good,

20Life, soule, forme, spirit, whence they beeing have;

I, by loves limbecke, am the grave

Of all, that's nothing. Oft a flood

Have wee two wept, and so

Drownd the whole world, us two; oft did we grow

25To be two Chaosses, when we did show

Care to ought else; and often absences

Withdrew our soules, and made us carcasses.

But I am by her death, (which word wrongs her)

Of the first nothing, the Elixer grown;

30Were I a man, that I were one,

I needs must know; I should preferre,

If I were any beast,

Some ends, some means; Yea plants, yea stones detest,

And love; All, all some properties invest;

35If I an ordinary nothing were,

As shadow, a light, and body must be here.

But I am None; nor will my Sunne renew.

You lovers, for whose sake, the lesser Sunne

At this time to the Goat is runne

40To fetch new lust, and give it you,

Enjoy your summer all;

Since shee enjoyes her long nights festivall,

Let mee prepare towards her, and let mee call

This houre her Vigill, and her Eve, since this

45Both the yeares, and the dayes deep midnight is.

But now I have drunke thy sweet salt teares,

And though thou poure more I'll depart;

10My picture vanish'd, vanish feares,

That I can be endamag'd by that art;

Though thou retaine of mee

One picture more, yet that will bee,

Being in thine owne heart, from all malice free.

If thou, to be so seene, beest loath,

By Sunne, or Moone, thou darknest both,

15And if my selfe have leave to see,

I need not their light, having thee.

Let others freeze with angling reeds,

And cut their legges, with shells and weeds,

Or treacherously poore fish beset,

20With strangling snare, or windowie net:

Let coarse bold hands, from slimy nest

The bedded fish in banks out-wrest,

Or curious traitors, sleavesilke flies

Bewitch poore fishes wandring eyes.

25For thee, thou needst no such deceit,

For thou thy selfe art thine owne bait;

That fish, that is not catch'd thereby,

Alas, is wiser farre then I.

Then thy sicke taper will begin to winke,

And he, whose thou art then, being tyr'd before,

Will, if thou stirre, or pinch to wake him, thinke

Thou call'st for more,

10And in false sleepe will from thee shrinke,

And then poore Aspen wretch, neglected thou

Bath'd in a cold quicksilver sweat wilt lye

A veryer ghost then I;

What I will say, I will not tell thee now,

15Lest that preserve thee'; and since my love is spent,

I'had rather thou shouldst painfully repent,

Then by my threatnings rest still innocent.

They come to us, but us Love draws,

Hee swallows us, and never chawes:

15By him, as by chain'd shot, whole rankes doe dye,

He is the tyran Pike, our hearts the Frye.

If 'twere not so, what did become

Of my heart, when I first saw thee?

I brought a heart into the roome,

20But from the roome, I carried none with mee:

If it had gone to thee, I know

Mine would have taught thine heart to show

More pitty unto mee: but Love, alas,

At one first blow did shiver it as glasse.

25Yet nothing can to nothing fall,

Nor any place be empty quite,

Therefore I thinke my breast hath all

Those peeces still, though they be not unite;

And now as broken glasses show

30A hundred lesser faces, so

My ragges of heart can like, wish, and adore,

But after one such love, can love no more.

  5So let us melt, and make no noise,

No teare-floods, nor sigh-tempests move,

T'were prophanation of our joyes

To tell the layetie our love.

Moving of th'earth brings harmes and feares,

10Men reckon what it did and meant,

But trepidation of the spheares,

Though greater farre, is innocent.

Dull sublunary lovers love

(Whose soule is sense) cannot admit

15Absence, because it doth remove

Those things which elemented it.

But we by a love, so much refin'd,

That our selves know not what it is,

Inter-assured of the mind,

20Care lesse, eyes, lips, and hands to misse.

Our two soules therefore, which are one,

Though I must goe, endure not yet

A breach, but an expansion,

Like gold to ayery thinnesse beate.

25If they be two, they are two so

As stiffe twin compasses are two,

Thy soule the fixt foot, makes no show

To move, but doth, if the'other doe.

And though it in the center sit,

30Yet when the other far doth rome,

It leanes, and hearkens after it,

And growes erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to mee, who must

Like th'other foot, obliquely runne;

Thy firmnes makes my circle just,

35And makes me end, where I begunne.

And whil'st our soules negotiate there,

Wee like sepulchrall statues lay;

All day, the same our postures were,

20And wee said nothing, all the day.

If any, so by love refin'd,

That he soules language understood,

And by good love were growen all minde,

Within convenient distance stood,

25He (though he knew not which soule spake,

Because both meant, both spake the same)

Might thence a new concoction take,

And part farre purer then he came.

This Extasie doth unperplex

30(We said) and tell us what we love,

Wee see by this, it was not sexe,

Wee see, we saw not what did move:

But as all severall soules containe

Mixture of things, they know not what,

35Love, these mixt soules, doth mixe againe,

And makes both one, each this and that.

A single violet transplant,

The strength, the colour, and the size,

(All which before was poore, and scant,)

40Redoubles still, and multiplies.

When love, with one another so

Interinanimates two soules,

That abler soule, which thence doth flow,

Defects of lonelinesse controules.

45Wee then, who are this new soule, know,

Of what we are compos'd, and made,

For, th'Atomies of which we grow,

Are soules, whom no change can invade.

But O alas, so long, so farre

50Our bodies why doe wee forbeare?

They are ours, though they are not wee, Wee are

The intelligences, they the spheare.

We owe them thankes, because they thus,

Did us, to us, at first convay,

55Yeelded their forces, sense, to us,

Nor are drosse to us, but allay.

On man heavens influence workes not so,

But that it first imprints the ayre,

Soe soule into the soule may flow,

60Though it to body first repaire.

As our blood labours to beget

Spirits, as like soules as it can,

Because such fingers need to knit

That subtile knot, which makes us man:

65So must pure lovers soules descend

T'affections, and to faculties,

Which sense may reach and apprehend,

Else a great Prince in prison lies.

To'our bodies turne wee then, that so

70Weake men on love reveal'd may looke;

Loves mysteries in soules doe grow,

But yet the body is his booke.

And if some lover, such as wee,

Have heard this dialogue of one,

75Let him still marke us, he shall see

Small change, when we'are to bodies gone.