Thursday, September 4, 2008



by John Donne

I NEVER stoop'd so low, as they

Which on an eye, cheek, lip, can prey ;

Seldom to them which soar no higher

Than virtue, or the mind to admire.

For sense and understanding may

Know what gives fuel to their fire ;

My love, though silly, is more brave ;

For may I miss, whene'er I crave,

If I know yet what I would have.

If that be simply perfectest,

Which can by no way be express'd

But negatives, my love is so.

To all, which all love, I say no.

If any who deciphers best,

What we know not—ourselves—can know,

Let him teach me that nothing. This

As yet my ease and comfort is,

Though I speed not, I cannot miss.

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