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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
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