John Donne


Loveís Usury


FOR every hour that thou wilt spare me now,
          I will allow,
Usurious god of love, twenty to thee,
When with my brown my grey hairs equal be.
Till then, Love, let my body range, and let
Me travel, sojourn, snatch, plot, have, forget,
Resume my last yearís relict; think that yet
          Weíd never met.
 
Let me think any rivalís letter mine,
          And at next nine
Keep midnightís promise; mistake by the way
The maid, and tell the lady of that delay;
Only let me love none; no, not the sport
From country grass to confitures of court,
Or cityís quelque-choses; let not report
          My mind transport.
 
This bargainís good; if when Iím old, I be
          Inflamed by thee,
If thine own honour, or my shame and pain,
Thou covet most, at that age thou shalt gain.
Do thy will then; then subject and degree
And fruit of love, Love, I submit to thee.
Spare me till then; Iíll bear it, though she be
          One that love me.




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