by John Donne
I wonder by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved? Were we not wean'd till then?
But suck'd on countrey 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-discoverers to new worlds have gone,
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have showne,
Let us possesse one world; each hath one, and is one.
And true plaine hearts doe in the faces rest,
Where can we finde two better hemispheares
Without sharpe North, without declining West?
What ever dyes, was not mixed equally;
If our two loves be one, or thou and I
Love so alike, that none doe slacken, none can die.