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    The Love Poems of John Donne
    The Love Poems of John Donne
    The Love Poems of John Donne
    Ebook127 pages1 hour

    The Love Poems of John Donne

    By John Donne

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    Born in 1572 in London England, John Donne was an English Jacobean poet of exceptional skill, whose poetry was known for its vibrancy of language and inventiveness of metaphor. While Donne was well educated and his poetic talents considerable he struggled for much of his life to provide for his family. Having published only two volumes during his lifetime, he was not a professional poet. Despite this his legacy on the world of poetry is a significant one. In this volume you will find a representative selection of his "love-poetry", a type of poetry popular in Donne's time. In total seventy-two passionate and erotic poems comprise this volume of "The Love Poems of John Donne".
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDigireads.com Publishing
    Release dateJan 1, 2010
    ISBN9781420936506
    The Love Poems of John Donne

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      Book preview

      The Love Poems of John Donne - John Donne

      THE LOVES POEMS

      OF

      JOHN DONNE

      A Digireads.com Book

      Digireads.com Publishing

      Print ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-3243-0

      Ebook ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-3650-6

      This edition copyright © 2012

      Please visit www.digireads.com

      CONTENTS

      THE GOOD-MORROW

      SONG: Go and catch a falling star

      WOMAN'S CONSTANCY

      THE UNDERTAKING

      THE SUN RISING

      THE INDIFFERENT

      LOVE'S USURY

      THE CANONIZATION

      THE TRIPLE FOOL

      LOVERS' INFINITENESS

      SONG: Sweetest love, I do not go

      THE LEGACY

      A FEVER

      AIR AND ANGELS

      BREAK OF DAY

      THE ANNIVERSARY

      A VALEDICTION: OF MY NAME, IN THE WINDOW

      TWICKENHAM GARDEN

      A VALEDICTION: OF THE BOOK

      COMMUNITY

      LOVE'S GROWTH

      LOVE'S EXCHANGE

      CONFINED LOVE

      THE DREAM

      A VALEDICTION: OF WEEPING

      LOVE'S ALCHEMY

      THE FLEA

      THE CURSE

      THE MESSAGE

      A NOCTURNAL UPON ST. LUCY'S DAY,

      WITCHCRAFT BY A PICTURE

      THE BAIT

      THE APPARITION

      THE BROKEN HEART

      A VALEDICTION: FORBIDDING MOURNING

      THE ECSTACY

      LOVE'S DEITY

      LOVE'S DIET

      THE WILL

      THE FUNERAL

      THE BLOSSOM

      THE PRIMROSE, BEING AT MONTGOMERY CASTLE UPON THE HILL, ON WHICH IT IS SITUATE

      THE RELIC

      THE DAMP

      THE DISSOLUTION

      A JET RING SENT

      NEGATIVE LOVE

      THE PROHIBITION

      THE EXPIRATION

      THE COMPUTATION

      THE PARADOX

      FAREWELL TO LOVE

      A LECTURE UPON THE SHADOW

      SONNET: THE TOKEN

      SELF-LOVE

      SONG: Stay, oh sweet, and do not rise

      JEALOUSY

      THE ANAGRAM

      CHANGE

      THE PERFUME

      HIS PICTURE

      ELEGY: Oh, let me not serve so, as those men serve

      ELEGY: Nature's lay idiot, I taught thee to love

      THE COMPARISON

      THE AUTUMNAL

      THE DREAM

      THE BRACELET

      HIS PARTING FROM HER

      ON HIS MISTRESS

      LOVE'S PROGRESS

      TO HIS MISTRESS GOING TO BED

      LOVE'S WAR

      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 country pleasures, childishly?

      Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den?

      'Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be;

      If ever any beauty I did see,

      Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.

      And now good-morrow to our waking souls,

      Which watch not one another out of fear;

      For love all love of other sights controls,

      And makes one little room an everywhere.

      Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone;

      Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown;

      Let us possess one world; each hath one, and is one.

      My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,

      And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;

      Where can we find two better hemispheres

      Without sharp north, without declining west?

      Whatever dies, was not mixed equally;

      If our two loves be one, or thou and I

      Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die.

      SONG

      Go and catch a falling star,

      Get with child a mandrake root,

      Tell me where all past years are,

      Or who cleft the devil's foot,

      Teach me to hear mermaids singing,

      Or to keep off envy's stinging,

      And find

      What wind

      Serves to advance an honest mind.

      If thou beest born to strange sights,

      Things invisible to see,

      Ride ten thousand days and nights,

      Till age snow white hairs on thee,

      Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,

      All strange wonders that befell thee,

      And swear,

      No where

      Lives a woman true and fair.

      If thou find'st one, let me know,

      Such a pilgrimage were sweet;

      Yet do not, I would not go,

      Though at next door we might meet,

      Though she were true, when you met her,

      And last, till you write your letter,

      Yet she

      Will be

      False, ere I come, to two, or three.

      WOMAN'S CONSTANCY

      Now thou hast loved me one whole day,

      To-morrow when thou leav'st, what wilt thou say?

      Wilt thou then antedate some new-made vow?

      Or say that now

      We are not just those persons which we were?

      Or that oaths made in reverential fear

      Of Love, and his wrath, any may forswear?

      Or, as true deaths true marriages untie,

      So lovers' contracts, images of those,

      Bind but till sleep, death's image, them unloose?

      Or, your own end to justify,

      For having purposed change and falsehood, you

      Can have no way but falsehood to be true?

      Vain lunatic, against these 'scapes I could

      Dispute, and conquer, if I would;

      Which I abstain to do,

      For by to-morrow I may think so too.

      THE UNDERTAKING

      I have done one braver thing

      Than all the Worthies did;

      And yet a braver thence doth spring,

      Which is, to keep that hid.

      It were but madness now to impart

      The skill of specular stone,

      When he, which can have learned the art

      To cut it, can find none.

      So, if I now should utter this,

      Others (because no more

      Such stuff to work upon, there is)

      Would love but as before.

      But he who loveliness within

      Hath found, all outward loathes,

      For he who color loves, and skin,

      Loves but their oldest clothes.

      If, as I have, you also do

      Virtue in woman see,

      And dare love that, and say so too,

      And forget the He and She;

      And if this love, though placed so,

      From profane men you hide,

      Which will no faith on this bestow,

      Or, if they do, deride;

      Then you have done a braver thing

      Than all the Worthies did;

      And a braver thence will spring,

      Which is, to keep that hid.

      THE SUN RISING

      Busy old fool, unruly Sun,

      Why dost thou thus,

      Through windows, and through curtains, call on us?

      Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?

      Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide

      Late school-boys and sour prentices,

      Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,

      Call country ants to harvest offices;

      Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,

      Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

      Thy beams so reverend, and strong

      Why shouldst thou think?

      I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,

      But that I would not lose her sight

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