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
Hymn to God, My God, in My Sickness
Since I am coming to that Holy room, Where, with Thy choir of saints for evermore, I shall be made Thy music; as I come I tune the instrument here at the door, And what I must do then, think here before; Whilst my physicians by their love are grown Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie Flat on this bed, that by them may be shown That this is my south-west discovery, Per fretum febris, by these straits to die; I joy, that in these straits I see my west; For, though those currents yield return to none, What shall my west hurt me? As west and east In all flat maps—and I am one—are one, So death doth touch the resurrection. Is the Pacific sea my home? Or are The eastern riches? Is Jerusalem? Anyan, and Magellan, and Gibraltar? All straits, and none but straits, are ways to them Whether where Japhet dwelt, or Cham, or Shem. We think that Paradise and Calvary, Christ's cross and Adam's tree, stood in one place; Look, Lord, and find both Adams met in me; As the first Adam's sweat surrounds my face, May the last Adam's blood my soul embrace. So, in His purple wrapp'd, receive me, Lord; By these His thorns, give me His other crown; And as to others' souls I preach'd Thy word, Be this my text, my sermon to mine own, "Therefore that He may raise, the Lord throws down."