Donne by John Donne

below
    In winter, in my winter now I goe,
        Where none but thee, th’Eternall root
                   Of true Love I may know.
    Nor thou nor thy religion dost controule,
    The amorousnesse of an harmonious Soule,
    But thou would’st have that love thy selfe: As thou
    Art jealous, Lord, so I am jealous now,
    Thou lov’st not, till from loving more, thou free
    My soule: Who ever gives, takes libertie:
        O, if thou car’st not whom I love
                   Alas, thou lov’st not mee.
    Seale then this bill of my Divorce to All,
    On whom those fainter beames of love did fall;
    Marry those loves, which in youth scattered bee
    On Fame, Wit, Hopes (false mistresses) to thee.
    Churches are best for Prayer, that have least light:
    To see God only, I goe out of sight:
        And to scape stormy dayes, I chuse
                   An Everlasting night.
HYMNE TO GOD MY GOD, IN MY SICKNESSE
    Since I am comming to that Holy roome,
        Where, with thy Quire of Saints for evermore,
    I shall be made thy Musique; As I come
        I tune the Instrument here at the dore,
        And what I must doe then, thinke here before.
    Whilst my Physitians by their love are growne
        Cosmographers, and I their Mapp, who lie
    Flat on this bed, that by them may be showne
        That this is my South-west discoverie
        
Per fretum febris
, by these streights to die,
    I joy, that in these straits, I see my West;
        For, those theire currants yeeld returne to none,
    What shall my West hurt me? As West and East
        In all flatt Maps (and I am one) are one,
        So death doth touch the Resurrection.
    Is the Pacifique Sea my home? Or are
        The Easterne riches? Is
Jerusalem?
    Anyan
, and
Magellan
, and
Gibraltare
,
        All streights, and none but streights are wayes to them,
        Whether where
Japhet
dwelt, or
Cham
, or
Sem.
    We thinke that
Paradise
and
Calvarie
,
        
Christs
Crosse, and
Adams
tree, stood in one place;
    Looke Lord, and finde both
Adams
met in me;
        As the first
Adams
sweat surrounds my face,
        May the last
Adams
blood my soule embrace.
    So, in his purple wrapp’d receive mee Lord,
        By these his thornes give me his other Crowne;
    And as to others soules I preach’d thy word,
        Be this my Text, my Sermon to mine owne,
        Therfore that he may raise the Lord throws down.
A HYMNE TO GOD THE FATHER
      I.
    Wilt thou forgive that sinne where I begunne,
        Which was my sin, though it were done before?
    Wilt thou forgive that sinne, through which I runne,
        And do run still: though still I do deplore?
                   When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
                             For, I have more.
     II.
    Wilt thou forgive that sinne which I have wonne
        Others to sinne? and, made my sinne their doore?
    Wilt thou forgive that sinne which I did shunne
        A yeare, or two: but wallowed in, a score?
                   When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
                             For I have more.
    III.
    I have a sinne of feare, that when I have spunne
        My last thred, I shall perish on the shore;
    But sweare by thy selfe, that at my death thy sonne
        Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore;
                   And, having done that, Thou hast done,
                             I feare no more.
THE LITANIE
      I.
         
The
F ATHER
        Father of Heaven, and him, by whom
    It, and us for it, and all else, for us
        Thou madest, and govern’st ever, come
    And re-create mee, now growne ruinous:
                   My heart is by dejection, clay,
                   And by selfe-murder, red.
    From this red earth, O Father, purge away
    All vicious tinctures, that new fashioned
    I may rise up from death, before I’m