John Donne




The Good-Morrow

I wonder, by my troth, what thou, and I 
Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then? 
But sucked on countrey pleasures, childishly? 
Or snorted we in the seaven sleepers’ den? 
’Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies bee. 
If ever any beauty I did see, 
Which I desired, and got, ’twas but a dreame of thee.

And now good-morrow to our waking soules, 
Which watch not one another out of feare; 
For love, all love of other sights controules, 
And makes one little roome an every where. 
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone, 
Let Maps to other, worlds on worlds have showne, 
Let us possesse one world, each hath one, and is one. 

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appeares, 
And true plaine hearts doe in the faces rest; 
Where can we finde two better hemispheares, 
Without sharpe north, without declining west? 
Whatever dyes, was not mixt equally; 
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I 
Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.