John Donne: Song

Song

Soul's joy, now I am gone,                      And you alone,                      —Which cannot be, Since I must leave myself with thee,            And carry thee with me—            Yet when unto our eyes                      Absence denies                      Each other's sight, And makes to us a constant night,       When others change to light;                      O give no way to grief,                      But let belief                            Of mutual love                      This wonder to the vulgar prove,                            Our bodies, not we move. 
Let not thy wit beweep                      Words but sense deep;                      For when we miss By distance our hope's joining bliss,            Even then our souls shall kiss;            Fools have no means to meet,                      But by their feet;                      Why should our clay Over our spirits so much sway,       To tie us to that way?                       O give no way to grief,                      But let belief                            Of mutual love                      This wonder to the vulgar prove,                            Our bodies, not we move.