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Poem by John Donne


The Indifferent


I CAN love both fair and brown;
Her whom abundance melts, and her whom want betrays;
Her who loves loneness best, and her who masks and plays;
Her whom the country formd, and whom the town;
Her who believes, and her who tries;
Her who still weeps with spongy eyes,
And her who is dry cork, and never cries.
I can love her, and her, and you, and you;
I can love any, so she be not true.
 
Will no other vice content you?
Will it not serve your turn to do as did your mothers?
Or have you all old vices spent and now would find out others?
Or doth a fear that men are true torment you?
O we are not, be not you so;
Let meand do youtwenty know;
Rob me, but bind me not, and let me go.
Must I, who came to travel 3 thorough you,
Grow your fixd subject, because you are true?
 
Venus heard me sigh this song;
And by loves sweetest part, variety, she swore,
She heard not this till now; it should be so no more.
She went, examined, and returnd ere long,
And said, Alas! some two or three
Poor heretics in love there be,
Which think to stablish dangerous constancy.
But I have told them, Since you will be true,
You shall be true to them whore false to you.



John Donne


John Donne's other poems:
  1. The Will
  2. Temple
  3. Fall of a Wall
  4. Crucifying
  5. Oh My Blacke Soule! Now Thou Art Summoned


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Alexander Brome The Indifferent ("MIstake me not, I am not of that mind")
  • Francis Beaumont The Indifferent ("Never more will I protest")

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