John Donne (1572–1631)

SEND home my long-stray’d eyes to me,

Which, oh! too long have dwelt on thee;

But if there they have learnt such ill,

Such forced fashions

And false passions,

That they be

Made by thee

Fit for no good sight, keep them still.

Send home my harmless heart again,

Which no unworthy thought could stain;

But if it be taught by thine

To make jestings

Of protestings,

And break both

Word and oath,

Keep it still, ’tis none of mine.

Yet send me back my heart and eyes,

That I may know and see thy lies,

And may laugh and joy when thou

Art in anguish,

And dost languish

For some one

That will none,

Or prove as false as thou dost now.