Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
John Donne. 15731631199. The Dream
DEAR love, for nothing less than thee | |
Would I have broke this happy dream; | |
It was a theme | |
For reason, much too strong for fantasy. | |
Therefore thou waked’st me wisely; yet | 5 |
My dream thou brok’st not, but continued’st it. | |
Thou art so true that thoughts of thee suffice | |
To make dreams truths and fables histories; | |
Enter these arms, for since thou thought’st it best | |
Not to dream all my dream, let ‘s act the rest. | 10 |
As lightning, or a taper’s light, | |
Thine eyes, and not thy noise, waked me; | |
Yet I thought thee— | |
For thou lov’st truth—an angel, at first sight; | |
But when I saw thou saw’st my heart, | 15 |
And knew’st my thoughts beyond an angel’s art, | |
When thou knew’st what I dreamt, when thou knew’st when | |
Excess of joy would wake me, and cam’st then, | |
I must confess it could not choose but be | |
Profane to think thee anything but thee. | 20 |
Coming and staying show’d thee thee, | |
But rising makes me doubt that now | |
Thou art not thou. | |
That Love is weak where Fear ‘s as strong as he; | |
‘Tis not all spirit pure and brave | 25 |
If mixture it of Fear, Shame, Honour have. | |
Perchance as torches, which must ready be, | |
Men light and put out, so thou deal’st with me. | |
Thou cam’st to kindle, go’st to come: then I | |
Will dream that hope again, but else would die. | 30 |