Sweetest love, I do not go
For weariness of thee,
Nor in hope the world can show
A fitter love for me.
But since that I
Must die at last, 'tis best
Thus to use myself in jest
By feigned death to die.
Yester-night the sun went hence,
And yet is here to-day;
He hath no desire nor sense,
Nor half so short a way:
Then fear not me,
But believe that I shall make
Hastier journeys, since I take
More wings and spurs than he.
Dr. John Donne.
TO AURORA.
O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm,
And dost prejudge thy bliss, and spoil my rest;
Then would'st thou melt the ice out of thy breast,
And thy relenting heart would kindly warm.
O, if thy pride did not our joys control,
What world of loving wonders should'st thou see!
For if I saw thee once transform'd in me,
Then in thy bosom I would pour my soul;
Then all my thoughts should in thy visage shine,
And if that aught mischanced thou should'st not moan
Nor bear the burthen of thy griefs alone:
No, I would have my share in what were thine:
And whilst we thus should make our sorrows one,
This happy harmony would make them none.
W. Alexander, Earl of Stirling.