Love Poems

The Good-Morrow, by John Donne.

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 bee.
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 soules,
Which watch not one another out of feare;
For love all love of other sights controules,
And makes one little roome, an every where.
Let sea discoverrs to new worlds have gone,
Let maps to others, worlds on worlds have showne,
Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one.

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appeares,
And true plain hearts doe in the faces rest,
Where can we find two better hemishpeares,
Without sharpe North, without declining West?
What ever dies, was not mixt equally;
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I
Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.

Related Products: Visit our store

Read more from this blogger: 'The Good-Morrow' :: A poem by John Donne :: PoetryConnection.net