Poems, by J.D. VVith elegies on the authors death

About this Item

Title
Poems, by J.D. VVith elegies on the authors death
Author
Donne, John, 1572-1631.
Publication
London :: Printed by M[iles] F[lesher] for Iohn Marriot, and are to be sold at his shop in St Dunstans Church-yard in Fleet-street,
1633.
Rights/Permissions

To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.

Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A69225.0001.001
Cite this Item
"Poems, by J.D. VVith elegies on the authors death." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A69225.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 14, 2024.

Pages

Loves Alchymie.

SOme that have deeper digg'd loves Myne then I, Say, where his centrique happinesse doth lie: I have lov'd, and got, and told, But should I love, get, tell, till I were old, I should not finde that hidden mysterie; Oh, 'tis imposture all: And as no chymique yet th'Elixar got, But glorifies his pregnant pot, If by the way to him befall Some odoriferous thing, or medicinall, So, lovers dreame a rich and long delight, But get a winter-seeming summers night.

Page 230

Our ease, our thrift, our honor, and our day, Shall we, for this vaine Bubles shadow pay? Ends love in this, that my man, Can be as happy'as I can; If he can Endure the short scorne of a Bridegroomes play? That loving wretch that sweares, 'Tis not the bodies marry, but the mindes, Which he in her Angelique findes, Would sweare as justly, that he heares, In that dayes rude hoarse minstralsey, the spheares. Hope not for minde in women; at their best, Sweetnesse, and wit they'are, but, Mummy, possest▪
Do you have questions about this content? Need to report a problem? Please contact us.