John Donne


 
HOLY SONNETS.

XVII.

Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt
To Nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,
And her soul early into heaven ravishèd,
Wholly on heavenly things my mind is set.
Here the admiring her my mind did whet
To seek thee, God; so streams do show the head;
But though I have found thee, and thou my thirst hast fed,
A holy thirsty dropsy melts me yet.
But why should I beg more love, whenas thou
Dost woo my soul, for hers offering all thine:
And dost not only fear lest I allow
My love to saints and angels, things divine,
But in thy tender jealousy dost doubt
Lest the world, flesh, yea, devil put thee out.



Source:
Donne, John. "Holy Sonnet 17."
The Norton Anthology of English Literature, 6th ed., v.1.
New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1993. 1117.



to Works of John Donne


Site copyright ©1996-2003 Anniina Jokinen.All Rights Reserved.
Created by Anniina Jokinen on November 6, 2000.

Background by the kind permission of Stormi Wallpaper Boutique.