|
| I will not looke upon the quickning Sunne, |
| But straight her beauty to my sense shall runne; |
| The ayre shall note her soft, the fire most pure; |
| Waters suggest her cleare, and the earth sure; |
| Time shall not lose our passages; The spring |
| How fresh our love was in the beginning; |
| The summer, how it ripened in the yeare; |
| And Autumne, what our golden harvests were. |
| The winter I'll not thinke on to spight thee, |
| But count it a lost season, so shall shee. |
| And this to th' comfort of my Deare I vow, |
| My deeds shall still bee what my deeds are now; |
| The Poles shall move to teach me, ere I start; |
| And when I change my Love, I'll change my heart, |
| Nay, if I waxe but cold in my desire, |
| Thinke, heaven hath motion lost, and the world, fire;* |
| Much more I could, but many words have made |
| That, oft, suspected which men would perswade; |
| Take therefore all in this: I love so true, |
| As I will never looke for lesse in you. |
|
[Transcriptions are not provided for noncanonical poems,
elegies on Donne by other authors, or prose compositions.] |