John Donne Selected Poems-7
ark mad, whoever says,
t h been in love an hour,
Yet not t love so soon decays,
But t it can ten in less space devour ;
ho will believe me, if I swear
t I he plague a year?
laug me, if I should say
I saw a flash of powder burn a day?
A a trifle is a ,
If once into loves come !
All ot
to ot some ;
to us, but us love draws ;
he swallows us and never chaws ;
By , whole ranks do die ;
yrant pike, our s the fry.
If t so, w did become
Of my hee?
I broug into the room,
But from th me.
If it o thee, I know
Mine o show
More pity unto me ; but Love, alas !
At one first blow did s as glass.
Yet noto nothing fall,
Nor any place be empty quite ;
t h all
till, t unite ;
And now, as broken glasses show
A hundred lesser faces, so
My rags of can like, wish, and adore,
But after one such love, can love no more.
hERE, like a pillow on a bed,
A pregnant bank so rest
ts reclining head,
Sat .
Our ed
By a fast balm, whence did spring ;
Our eye-beams ted, and did thread
Our eyes upon one double string.
So to engraft our
as all to make us one ;
And pictures in our eyes to get
as all our propagation.
As, t te
Suspends uncertain victory,
Our souls—ate,
ere gone out— her an