-6

John Donne Selected Poems 作者：约翰·多恩投票推荐加入书签留言反馈

百度搜索 John Donne Selected Poems 天涯 或 John Donne Selected Poems 天涯在线书库 即可找到本书最新章节.

A VALEDI OF WEEPING.

 LET me pour forth

 My tears before thy face, whilst I stay here,

 For thy face s them, and thy stamp they bear,

 And by this mihey are something worth.

 For thus they be

 Pregnant of thee ;

 Fruits of much grief they are, emblems of more ;

 When a tear falls, that thou fallst which it bore ;

 So thou and I are nothing then, when on a divers shore.

 On a round ball

 A workman, that hath copies by, lay

 An Europe, Afrid an Asia,

 And quickly make that, which was nothing, all.

 So doth each tear,

 Which thee doth wear,

 A globe, yea world, by that impression grow,

 Till thy tears mixd with mine do overflow

 This world, by waters sent from thee, my heaven dissolvèd so.

 O ! more than moon,

 Draw not up seas to drown me in thy sphere ;

 Weep me not dead, in thine arms, but forbear

 To teach the sea, what it may do too soon ;

 Let not the wind

 Example find

 To do me more harm than it purposeth :

 Sihou and I sigh one anothers breath,

 Whhs most is cruellest, and hastes the others death.

 LOVES ALCHEMY.

 Some that have deeper diggd loves mihan I,

 Say, where his tric happiness doth lie９９ｌib?.

 I have loved, and got, and told,

 But should I love, get, tell, till I were old,

 I should not find that hidden mystery.

 O ! tis imposture all ;

 And as no chemic yet th elixir got,

 But glorifies his pregna<dfn></dfn>nt pot,

 If by the way to him befall

 Some odoriferous thing, or medial,

 So, lovers dream a rid long delight,

 But get a winter-seeming summers night.

 Our ease, our thrift, our honour, and our day,

 Shall we for this vain bubbles shadow pay?

 Ends love in this, that my man

 be as happy as I , if he

 Ehe short s of a bridegrooms play?

 That loving wretch that swears,

 Tis not the bodies marry, but the minds,

 Which he in her angelids,

 Would swear as justly, that he hears,

 In that days rude hoarse minstrelsy, the spheres.

 Hope not for mind in women ; at their best,

 Sweetness and wit they are, but mummy, possessd.

 THE CURSE.

 WHuesses, thinks, or dreams, he knows

 Who is my mibbr></abbr>stress, wither by this curse ;

 Him, only for his purse

 May some dull whore to love dispose,

 And then yield unto all that are his foes ;

 May he be sd by one, whom all else s,

 Forswear to others, what to her he hath sworn,

 With fear of missing, shame of getting, torn.

 Madness his sorrow, gout his cramps, may he

 Make, by but thinking who hath made him such ;

 And may he feel no touch

 Of sce, but of fame, and be

 Anguishd, not that twas sin, but that twas she ;

 Or may he for her virtue reverence

 Ohat hates him only for impotence,

 And equal traitors be she and his sense.

 May he dream treason, and believe that he

 Meant to perform it, and fesses, and die,

 And no record tell why ;

 His sons, whione of his may be,

 I nothing but his infamy ;

 Or may he so long parasites have fed,

 That he would faiheirs whom he hath bred,

 And at the last be circumcised for bread.

 The venom of all stepdames, gamesters gall,

 What tyrants and their subjects interwish,

 lants, mine, beasts, fowl, fish,

 tribute, all ill, which all

 Prophets or poets spake, and all which shall

 Be annexd in schedules unto this by me,

 Fall on that man ; For if it be a she

 Nature beforehand hath out-cursèd me.

 THE MESSAGE.

 SEND home my long strayd eyes to me,

 Which, O ! too long have dwelt on thee ;

 Yet sihere they have learnd such ill,

 Such forced fashions,

 And false passions,

 That they be

 Made by thee

 Fit for no good sight, keep them still.

 Send home my harmless heart again,

 Whio unworthy thought could stain ;

 Which if it be taught by thine

 To make jestings

 Of protestings,

 And break both

 Word and oath,

 Keep it, for then tis none of mine.

 Yet send me back my heart and eyes,

 That I may know, ahy lies,

 And may laugh and joy, when thou

 Art in anguish

 And dost languish

 For some one

 That will none,

 Or prove as false as thou art now.

 A NOAL UPON ST. LUCYS DAY,

 BEING THE SHORTEST DAY.

 TIS the years midnight, and it is the days,

 Lucys, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks ;

 The sun is spent, and now his flasks

 Send forth light squibs, no stant rays ;

 The worlds whole sap is sunk ;

 The general balm th hydroptic earth hath drunk,

 Whither, as to the beds-feet, life is shrunk,

 Dead and interrd ; yet all these seem to laugh,

 pared with me, who am their epitaph.

 Study me then, you who shall lovers be

 At the world, that is, at the spring ;

 For I am every dead thing,

 In whom Love wrought new alchemy.

 For his art did express

 A quintessence even from nothingness,

 From dull privations, and leainess ;

 He ruind me, and I am re-begot

 Of absence, darkness, death—things which are not.

 All others, from all things, draw all thats good,

 Life, soul, form, spirit, whehey being have ;

 I, by Loves limbec, am the grave

 Of all, thats nothing. Oft a flood

 Have ept, and so

 Drownd the whole world, us two ; oft did we grow,

 To be two chaoses, when we did show

 Care to aught else ; and often absences

 Withdrew our souls, and made us carcasses.

 But I am by her death—which word wrongs her—

 Of the first nothing the elixir grown ;

 Were I a man, that I were one

 I needs must know ; I should prefer,

 If I were a,

 Some ends, some means ; yea plants, yea stones detest,

 And love ; all, all some properties i.

 If I an ordinary nothing were,

 As shadow, a light, and body must be here.

 But I am none ; nor will my sun renew.

 You lovers, for whose sake the lesser sun

 At this time to the Goat is run

 To fetew lust, and give it you,

 Enjoy your summer all,

 Since she enjoys her long nights festival.

 Let me prepare towards her, a me call

 This hour her vigil, and her eve, sihis

 Both the years and the days deep midnight is.

 WITCHCRAFT BY A PICTURE.

 I FIX mine eye on thine, and there

 Pity my picture burning in thine eye ;

 My picture drownd in a transparent tear,

 When I look lower I espy ;

 Hadst thou the wicked skill

 By pictures made and marrd, to kill,

 How many ways mightst thou perform thy will?

 But now Ive drunk thy sweet salt tears,

 And though thou pour more, Ill depart ;

 My picture vanished, vanish all fears

 That I be endamaged by that art ;

 Though thou retain of me

 One picture <s></s>more, yet that will be,

 Being in thine ow, from all malice free.

 THE BAIT.

 E live with me, and be my love,

 And we will some new pleasures prove

 Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,

 With silken lines and silver hooks.

 There will the river whispring run

 Warmd by thy eyes, more than the sun ;

 And there th enamourd fish will stay,

 Begging themselves they may betray.

 When thou wilt swim in that live bath,

 Each fish, which every el hath,

 Will amorously to thee swim,

 Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.

 If thou, to be so see loth,

 By sun or moon, thou dark both,

 And if myself have leave to see,

 I need not their light, having thee.

 Let others freeze with angling reeds,

 And cut their legs with shells and weeds,

 Or treacherously poor fish beset,

 With strangling snare, or windowy .

 Let coarse bold hands from slimy

 The bedded fish in banks out-wrest ;

 Or curious traitors, sleeve-silk flies,

 Bewitch poor fishes wandring eyes.

 For thee, thou no such deceit,

 For thou thyself art thine own bait :

 That fish, that is not catchd thereby,

 Alas ! is wiser far than I.

 THE APPARITION.

 WHEN by thy s, O murdress, I am dead,

 And that thou thinkst thee free

 From all solicitation from me,

 Then shall my ghost e to thy bed,

 And thee, feigal, in worse arms shall see :

 Then thy sick taper will begin to wink,

 And he, whose thou art then, being tired before,

 Will, if thou stir, or pinch to wake him, think

 Thou callst for more,

 And, in false sleep, will from thee shrink :

 And then, poor aspeeglected thou

 Bathed in a cold quicksilver sweat wilt lie,

 A verier ghost than I.

 What I will say, I will not tell thee now,

 Lest that preserve thee ; and since my love is spent,

 Id rather thou shouldst painfully repent,

 Than by my threatenings rest still i.

百度搜索 John Donne Selected Poems 天涯 或 John Donne Selected Poems 天涯在线书库 即可找到本书最新章节.