John Donne Selected Poems-8

LOVES DIET.

TO what a cumbersome unwieldiness

And burdenous corpulence my love had grown,

But that I did, to make it less,

And keep it in proportion,

Give it a diet, made it feed upon

That which love worst endures, discretion

Above one sigh a day I allowd him not,

Of which my fortune, and my faults had part ;

And if sometimes by stealth he got

A she sigh from my mistress heart,

And thought to feast upon that, I let him see

Twas her very sound, nor meant to me.

If he wrung from me a tear, I bri so

With s and shame, that him it nourishd not ;

If he suckd hers, I let him know

Twas not a tear which he had got ;

His drink was terfeit, as was his meat ;

For eyes, which roll towards all, weep not, but sweat.

Whatever he would dictate I writ that,

But burnt her letters when she writ to me ;

And if that favour made him fat,

I said, "If any title be

veyd by this, ah ! what doth it avail,

To be the fortieth name in aail?"

Thus I reclaimd my buzzard love, to fly

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