John Donne
Sonnets
From Holy Sonnets | ||
Sonnet 5 | ||
I am a little world made cunningly | ||
Of elements and an angelic sprite, | ||
But black sin hath betrayed to endless night | ||
My worlds both parts, and oh both parts must die. | ||
5 | You which beyond that heaven which was most high | |
Have found new spheres, and of new lands can write, | ||
Pour new seas in mine eyes, that so I might | ||
Drown my world with my weeping earnestly, | ||
Or wash it, if it must be drowned no more. | ||
10 | But oh it must be burnt; alas the fire | |
Of lust and envy have burnt it heretofore, | ||
And made it fouler; let their flames retire, | ||
And burn me O Lord, with a fiery zeal | ||
Of thee and thy house, which doth in eating heal. | ||
Sonnet 10 | ||
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee | ||
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; | ||
For those whom thou thinkst thou dost overthrow, | ||
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me. | ||
5 | From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, | |
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, | ||
And soonest our best men with thee do go, | ||
Rest of their bones, and souls delivery. | ||
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, | ||
10 | And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell; | |
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well, | ||
And better than thy stroke; why swellst thou then? | ||
One short sleep past, we wake eternally, | ||
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die. | ||
Sonnet 13 | ||
What if this present were the worlds last night? | ||
Mark in my heart, O Soul, where thou dost dwell, | ||
The picture of Christ crucified, and tell | ||
Whether that countenance can thee affright, | ||
5 | Tears in his eyes quench the amazing light, | |
Blood fills his frowns, which from his pierced head fell, | ||
And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell, | ||
Which prayed forgiveness for his foes fierce spite? | ||
No, no; but as in my idolatry | ||
10 | I said to all my profane mistresses, | |
Beauty, of pity, foulness only is | ||
A sign of rigour; so I say to thee, | ||
To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assigned, | ||
This beauteous form assures a piteous mind. | ||
Sonnet 14 | ||
Batter my heart, three-personed God; for you | ||
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend; | ||
That I may rise and stand, oerthrow me, and bend | ||
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new. | ||
5 | I, like an usurped town tanother due, | |
Labour tadmit you, but oh, to no end, | ||
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend, | ||
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue. | ||
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain, | ||
10 | But am betrothed unto your enemy; | |
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again, | ||
Take me to you, imprison me, for I, | ||
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free, | ||
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me. | ||
Sonnet 19 | ||
Oh, to vex me, contraries meet in one; | ||
Inconstancy unnaturally hath begot | ||
A constant habit; that when I would not | ||
I change in vows, and in devotion. | ||
5 | As humorous is my contrition | |
As my profane love, and as soon forgot; | ||
As riddlingly distempered, cold and hot, | ||
As praying, as mute; as infinite, as none. | ||
I durst not view heaven yesterday, and today | ||
10 | In prayers, and flattering speeches I court God; | |
Tomorrow I quake with true fear of his rod. | ||
So my devout fits come and go away | ||
Like a fantastic ague; save that here | ||
Those are my best days, when I shake with fear. | ||
Robert Clark