Come live with mee, and bee my love, And wee will some new pleasures prove Of golden sands, and christall brookes, With silken lines, and silver hookes. There will the river whispering runne Warm'd by thy eyes, more than the Sunne. And there the'inamor'd fish will stay, Begging themselves they may betray. When thou wilt swimme in that live bath, Each fish, which every channell hath, Will amorously to thee swimme, Gladder to catch thee, than thou him. If thou, to be so seene, beest loath, By Sunne, or Moone, thou darknest both, And if my selfe have leave to see, I need not their light, having thee. Let others freeze with angling reeds, And cut their legges, with shells and weeds, Or treacherously poore fish beset, With strangling snare, or windowie net: Let coarse bold hands, from slimy nest The bedded fish in banks out-wrest, Or curious traitors, sleavesilke flies Bewitch poore fishes wandring eyes. For thee, thou needst no such deceit, For thou thy selfe art thine owne bait; That fish, that is not catch'd thereby, Alas, is wiser farre than I.
John Donne - 1572-1631
To His Mistress Going to Bed
Come, madam, come, all rest my powers defy, Until I labour, I in labour lie. The foe oft-times having the foe in sight, Is tired with standing though he never fight. Off with that girdle, like heaven's zone glistering, But a far fairer world encompassing. Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear, That th'eyes of busy fools may be stopped there. Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime Tells me from you that now it is bed time. Off with that happy busk, which I envy, That still can be, and still can stand so nigh. Your gown going off, such beauteous state reveals, As when from flowery meads th'hills shadow steals. Off with your wiry coronet and show The hairy diadem which on you doth grow: Now off with those shoes: and then safely tread In this love's hallowed temple, this soft bed. In such white robes heaven's angels used to be Received by men; thou, Angel, bring'st with thee A heaven like Mahomet's Paradise; and though Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know By this these Angels from an evil sprite: Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright. License my roving hands, and let them go Before, behind, between, above, below. O my America! my new-found-land, My kingdom, safeliest when with one man manned, My mine of precious stones, my empery, How blest am I in this discovering thee! To enter in these bonds is to be free; Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be. Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee, As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be, To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use Are as Atlanta's balls, cast in men's views, That when a fool's eye lighteth on a gem, His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them: Like pictures, or like books' gay coverings made For lay-men, are all women thus arrayed. Themselves are mystic books, which only we (Whom their imputed grace will dignify) Must see revealed. Then, since that I may know, As liberally as to a midwife, show Thyself: cast all, yea, this white linen hence, There is no penance due to innocence: To teach thee, I am naked first; why than, What need'st thou have more covering than a man?