31. A Valedi: of Weeping
—— John Donne
Let me pour forth
My tears before thy face whilst I stay here,
For thy face s them, and thy stamp they bear,
And by this mihey are something worth,
For thus they be
Pregnant of thee;
Fruits of much grief they are, emblems of more;
When a tear falls, that Thou falls which it bore,
So thou and I are nothing then, when on a diver shore.
On a round ball
A workman that hath copies by, lay
An Europe, Afrid an Asia,
And quickly make that, which was nothing, all,
So doth each tear
Which thee doth wear,
A globe, yea world, by that impression grow,
Till thy tears mixed with mine do overflow
This world; by waters nt from thee, my heaven dissolvéd so.
O more than moon,
Draw not up as to drown me in thy sphere;
Weep me not dead, in thine arms, but forbear
To teach the a what it may do too soon.
Let not the wind
Example find
To do me more harm than it purpoth;
Sihou and I sigh one another’s breath,
Whhs most is cruelest, and hastes the other’s death.