The Blossome
John Donne
1572 to 1631
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Little think'st thou, poore flower,
Whom I have watch'd or seaven dayes,
And seene thy birth, and seene every houre
Gave to thy growth, thee to this to raise,
And now dost laugh and triumph on bough,
Little think'st thou
That it will freeze anon, and that I shall
To morrow finde thee falne, not at all.
Little think'st thou poore heart
That labour'st yet to nestle thee,
And think'st by hovering to get a part
In a forbidden or forbidding tree,
And hop'st her stiffenesse by long siege to bow:
think'st thou,
That thou to morrow, ere that Sunne wake,
Must with this Sunne, and mee a take.
But thou which lov'st to bee
Subtile to thy selfe, wilt say,
Alas, if you must goe, what's that to mee?
Here lyes my businesse, and here will stay:
You goe to friends, whose love meanes present
Various content
To your eyes, eares, and tongue, and every part.
If then your body goe, what you a heart?
Well then, stay here; but know,
When thou hast stayd and done thy most;
A thinking heart, that makes no show,
Is to a woman, but a kinde of Ghost;
How shall shee know heart; or having none,
Know thee for one?
may make her know some other part,
But take word, shee doth not know a Heart.
Meet mee London, then,
Twenty dayes hence, and thou shalt see
fresher, and more fat, by being with men,
if I had staid still with her and thee.
Gods sake, if you can, be you so too:
would give you
There, to another friend, whom wee finde
As glad to have my body, as my minde.