Authors: John Donne
It shall be
Caro mea
, my flesh, so, as that nothing can draw it from the allegiance of my God; and
Caro mea, My flesh
, so, as that nothing can divest me of it. Here a bullet will ask a man, where’s your arm; and a wolf will ask a woman, where’s your breast? A sentence in the Star Chamber will ask him, where’s your ear, and a month’s close prison will ask him, where’s your flesh? a fever will ask him, where’s your red, and a morphew will ask him, where’s your white? But when after all this, when
after my skin worms shall destroy my body, I shall see God
, I shall see him in my flesh, which shall be mine as inseparably, (in the effect, though not in the manner) as the hypostatical union of God, and man, in Christ, makes our nature and the Godhead one person in him. My flesh shall no more be none of mine, than Christ shall not be man, as well as God.
All Kings, and all their favorites
As virtuous men passe mildly away
At the round earths imagin’d corners, blow
Away thou fondling motley humorist
Batter my heart, three person’d God; for, you
Before I sigh my last gaspe, let me breath
Blasted with sighs, and surrounded with teares
By our first strange and fatall interview
Come live with mee, and bee my love
Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defie
Deare love, for nothing lesse then thee
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Father of Heaven, and him, by whom
For every houre that thou wilt spare me now
For Godsake hold your tongue, and let me love
Goe, and catche a falling starre
Honour is so sublime perfection
I am a little world made cunningly
I can love both faire and browne
I fixe mine eye on thine, and there
I long to talke with some old lovers ghost
I scarce beleeve my love to be so pure
I wonder by my troth, what thou, and I
Immensitie cloysterd in thy deare wombe
In what torne ship soever I embarke
Kinde pitty chokes my spleene; brave scorn forbids
Let mans Soule be a Spheare, and then, in this
Marke but this flea, and marke in this
No Lover saith, I love, nor any other
Now thou hast lov’d me one whole day
O might those sighes and teares returne againe
Reason is our Soules left hand, Faith her right
Salvation to all that will is nigh
Send home my long strayd eyes to mee
Shee’ is dead; And all which die
Show me deare Christ, thy Spouse, so bright and clear
Since I am comming to that Holy roome
Since she whom I lov’d hath payd her last debt
Sir; though (I thanke God for it) I do hate
Sleep, sleep old Sun, thou canst not have repast
So, so, breake off this last lamenting kisse
Some that have deeper digg’d loves Myne then I
Stand still, and I will read to thee
T’have written then, when you writ, seem’d to mee
The heavens rejoyce in motion, why should I
This is my playes last scene, here heavens appoint
This twilight of two yeares, not past nor next
Thou hast made me. And shall thy worke decay?
Thou shalt not laugh in this leafe, Muse, nor they
Though I be
dead
, and buried, yet I have
Tis the yeares midnight, and it is the dayes
Twice or thrice had I loved thee
Well; I may now receive, and die; My sinne
What if this present were the worlds last night?
When by thy scorne, O murdresse, I am dead
When I dyed last, and, Deare, I dye
When my grave is broke up againe
When that rich soule which to her Heaven is gone
Why are wee by all creatures waited on?