by John Donne

SEND me some tokens, that my hope may live
    Or that my easeless thoughts may sleep and rest ;
Send me some honey, to make sweet my hive,
    That in my passions I may hope the best.
I beg nor ribbon wrought with thine own hands,
    To knit our loves in the fantastic strain
Of new-touch'd youth ; nor ring to show the stands
    Of our affection, that, as that's round and plain,
So should our loves meet in simplicity ;
    No, nor the corals, which thy wrist enfold,
Laced up together in congruity,
    To show our thoughts should rest in the same hold ;
No, nor thy picture, though most gracious,
    And most desired, 'cause 'tis like the best
Nor witty lines, which are most copious,
    Within the writings which thou hast address'd.
Send me nor this nor that, to increase my score,
But swear thou think'st I love thee, and no more.

Donne, John. Poems of John Donne. vol I.
E. K. Chambers, ed.
London: Lawrence & Bullen, 1896. 80-81.

to John Donne

Copyright © 1996-2003 Anniina Jokinen. All Rights Reserved.
Created by Anniina Jokinen on August 13, 1999.

Background by the kind permission of Stormi Wallpaper Boutique.

sound recording [.wav]

©1999 Anniina Jokinen.