Love English poetry: The Good Morrow, 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 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 everywhere.

Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone ;

Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown ;

Let us possess one world ; each hath one, and is one. 

 

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, 

And true plain hearts do in the faces rest ;

Where can we find two better hemispheres 

Without sharp north, without declining west ?

Whatever dies, was not mix’d equally ;

If our two loves be one, or thou and I 

Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die.

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