Ode to Friday: Donne

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 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 every where.

*

~ Lines 1-11 of The Good Morrow by the earthiest priest of all, John Donne (English, 1572-1631), on the occasion of my beautiful friend Shaylee’s wedding.

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