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.
<strong>THE BROKE.</strong>He is stark mad, whoever says,
That he hath been in love an hour,
Yet not that love so soon decays,
But that it ten in less space devour ;
Who will believe me, if I swear
That I have had the plague a year?
Who would not laugh at me, if I should say
I saw a flash of powder burn a day?
Ah, what a trifle is a heart,
If oo loves hands it e !
All riefs alloart
To riefs, and ask themselves but some ;
They e to us, but us love draws ;
He swallows us and never chaws ;
By him, as by d shot, whole ranks do die ;
He is the tyrant pike, our hearts the fry.
If twere not so, what did bee
Of my heart when I first saw thee?
I brought a heart into the room,
But from the room I carried h me.
If it had goo thee, I know
Mine would have taught thi to show
More pity unto me ; but Love, alas !
At one first blow did shiver it as glass.
Yet nothing to nothing fall,
Nor any place be empty quite ;
Therefore I think my breast hath all
Those pieces still, though they be not unite ;
And now, as broken glasses show
A hundred lesser faces, so
My rags of heart like, wish, and adore,
But after one such love, love no more.
<strong>THE ECSTACY.</strong>
WHERE, like a pillow on a bed,
A pregnant bank swelld up, to rest
The violets reing head,
Sat we two, one anothers best.
Our hands were firmly ted
By a fast balm, which thence did spring ;
Our eye-beams twisted, and did thread
Our eyes upon one double string.
So to engraft our hands, as yet
Was all the means to make us one ;
And pictures in our eyes to get
Was all our propagation.
As, twixt two equal armies, Fate
Suspends uain victory,
Our souls—which to advaheir state,
Were go—hung twixt her and me.
And whilst our souls iate there,
We like sepulchral statues lay ;
All day, the same our postures were,
And<cite>?9９liｂ?</cite> we said nothing, all the day.
If any, so by love refined,
That he souls language uood,
And by good love were grown all mind,
Within ve distaood,
He—though he knew not which soul spake,
Because both meant, both spake the same—
Might thence a new co take,
And part far purer than he came.
This ecstasy doth unperplex
(We said) and tell us what we love ;
We see by this, it was not sex ;
We see, we saw not, what did move :
But as all several souls tain
Mixture of things they know not what,
Love these mixd souls doth mix again,
And makes both one, each this, and that.
A single violet transplant,
The strength, the colour, and the size—
All which before oor and st—
Redoubles still, and multiplies.
When love with one another so
Interanimates two souls,
That abler soul, which theh flow,
Defects of loneliness trols.
We then, who are this new soul, know,
Of what we are posed, and made,
For th atomies of which we grow
Are souls, whom no ge invade.
But, O alas ! so long, so far,
Our bodies why do we forbear?
They are ours, though not we ; we are
Th intelligehey the spheres.
We owe them thanks, because they thus
Did us, to us, at first vey,
Yielded their senses force to us,
Nor are dross to us, but allay.
On man heavens influence works not so,
But that it first imprints the air ;
For soul into the soul may flow,
Though it to body first repair.
As our blood labours to beget
Spirits, as lik<bdi></bdi>e souls as it ;
Because such fingers o knit
That s></a>ubtle knot, which makes us man ;
So must pure lovers souls desd
To affes, and to faculties,
Which sense may read apprehend,
Else<tt>.t> a great prin prison lies.
To our bodies turhen, that so
Weak men on love reveald may look ;
Loves mysteries in souls do grow,
But yet the body is his book.
And if some lover, such as we,
Have heard this dialogue of one,
Let him still mark us, he shall see
Small ge wheo bodies gone.
<strong>LOVES DEITY.</strong>
I LONG to talk with some old lhost,
Who died before the god of love was born.
I ot think that he, who then loved most,
Sunk so low as to love one which did s.
But sihis god produced a destiny,
And that viature, , lets it be,
I must love her that loves not me.
Sure, they which made him god, meant not so much,
Nor he in his young godhead practised it.
But when an even flame two hearts did touch,
His office was indulgently to fit
Actives to passives. C<bdo>.99liｂ?</bdo>orrespondency
Only his subject was ; it ot be
Love, till I love her, who loves me.
But every mod will end
His vast prerogative as far as Jove.
Te, to lust, to write to, to end,
All is the purlieu of the god of love.
O ! were we wakend by this tyranny
To ungod this child again, it could not be
I should love her, who loves not me.
Rebel and atheist too, why murmur I,
As though I felt the worst that love could do?
Love might make me leave loving, ht try
A deeper plague, to make her love me too ;
Which, since she loves before, Im loth to see.
Falsehood is worse than hate ; and that must be,
If she whom I love, should love me.
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.