The Good-Morrow || Poem

 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 sucked on country pleasures, childishly?

Or snorted we in the seven sleeper's den?

Twas so; but this all pleasures fancies be.

If even any beauty I did see.

Which I desired, and got, twas but a dream of thee.

And now good-morrow to our walking 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,

Lets maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown,

Lets 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 mixed equally;

If our loves be one, or thou and I.

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

source: Jone Donne poetry book.