SONG. Sweetest love, I do not go Nor in hope the world can show But since that I Must die at last, 'tis best Yesternight the Sun went hence He hath no desire nor sense, Then fear not me, But believe that I shall make O how feeble is man's power, But come bad chance, And we join to 't our strength, And we teach it art and length, Itself o'er us t' advance. When thou sigh'st thou sigh'st not wind, But sigh'st my soul away; When thou weep'st unkindly kind, My life's blood doth decay. It cannot be That thou lov'st me, as thou say'st; Thou art the life of me. Let not thy divining heart Destiny may take my part Are but laid aside to sleep: FROM 'VERSES TO SIR HENRY WOOTTON.' Be then thine own home, and in thyself dwell; Be thine own palace, or the world's thy jail. Fishes glide, leaving no print where they pass, To know my rules, I have, and you have, Donne. THE WILL. Before I sigh my last gasp, let me breathe, Thou, Love, hast taught me heretofore By making me serve her who had twenty more, That I should give to none, but such as had too much before. My constancy I to the planets give, My truth to them who at the court do live; To Jesuits; to buffoons my pensiveness; Thou, Love, taught'st me, by appointing me My faith I give to Roman Catholics; My modesty I give to shoulders bare; My patience let gamesters share. Thou, Love, taught'st me, by making me Love her that holds my love disparity, Only to give to those that count my gifts indignity. I give my reputation to those Which were my friends; my industry to foes; My sickness to physicians. or excess; To Nature, all that I in rhyme have writ; And to my company my wit; Thou, Love, by making me adore Her, who begot this love in me before, Taught'st me to make, as though I gave, when I did but restore. To him for whom the passing bell next tolls I give my physic books; my written rolls My brazen medals, unto them which live Thou, Love, by making me love one Who thinks her friendship a fit portion For younger lovers, dost my gifts thus disproportion. Therefore I'll give no more; but I'll undo Than gold in mines, where none doth draw it forth; Than a sun-dial on a grave. Thou, Love, taughtest me, by making me Love her, who doth neglect both me and thee, To invent and practise this one way to annihilate all three. 3 |