"The Sunne Rising"
By
John Donne
Transcription, correction, editorial commentary, and markup by Students and Staff of the University of
Virginia
[TP]
POEMS,
By J. D[onne].
WITH
ELEGIES
ON THE AUTHOR'S
Death.
LONDON.
Printed by M. F. for [J]OHN MARRIOT,
and are to be sold at his shop in St Dunstans
Church-yard in Fleet-street. 1633. The Sunne Rising. 1BUsie old foole, unruly Sunne, 2Why dost thou thus, 3Through windowes, and through curtaines call on us? 4Must to thy motions lovers seasons run? 5Sawcy pedantique wretch, goe chide 6Late schoole boyes, and sowre prentices, 7Goe tell Court-huntsmen, that the King will ride, 8Call countrey ants to harvest offices, 9Love, all alike, no season knowes, nor clyme, 10Nor houres, dayes, moneths, which are the rags of time. 11Thy beames, so reverend, and strong 12Why shouldst thou thinke? 13I could eclipse and cloud them with a winke, 14But that I would not lose her sight so long: 15If her eyes have not blinded thine, 16Looke, and to morrow late, tell mee, 17Whether both the'India's of spice and Myne 18Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with mee. 19Aske for those Kings whom thou saw'st yesterday, 20And thou shalt heare, All here in one bed lay. 21She'is all States, and all Princes, I, 22Nothing else is. 23Princes doe but play us, compar'd to this, 24All honor's mimique; All wealth alchimie; 25Thou sunne art halfe as happy'as wee, 26In that the world's contracted thus. 27Thine age askes ease, and since thy duties bee 28To warme the world, that's done in warming us. 29Shine here to us, and thou art every where; 30This bed thy center is, these walls, thy spheare.
By J. D[onne].
WITH
ELEGIES
ON THE AUTHOR'S
Death.
LONDON.
Printed by M. F. for [J]OHN MARRIOT,
and are to be sold at his shop in St Dunstans
Church-yard in Fleet-street. 1633. The Sunne Rising. 1BUsie old foole, unruly Sunne, 2Why dost thou thus, 3Through windowes, and through curtaines call on us? 4Must to thy motions lovers seasons run? 5Sawcy pedantique wretch, goe chide 6Late schoole boyes, and sowre prentices, 7Goe tell Court-huntsmen, that the King will ride, 8Call countrey ants to harvest offices, 9Love, all alike, no season knowes, nor clyme, 10Nor houres, dayes, moneths, which are the rags of time. 11Thy beames, so reverend, and strong 12Why shouldst thou thinke? 13I could eclipse and cloud them with a winke, 14But that I would not lose her sight so long: 15If her eyes have not blinded thine, 16Looke, and to morrow late, tell mee, 17Whether both the'India's of spice and Myne 18Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with mee. 19Aske for those Kings whom thou saw'st yesterday, 20And thou shalt heare, All here in one bed lay. 21She'is all States, and all Princes, I, 22Nothing else is. 23Princes doe but play us, compar'd to this, 24All honor's mimique; All wealth alchimie; 25Thou sunne art halfe as happy'as wee, 26In that the world's contracted thus. 27Thine age askes ease, and since thy duties bee 28To warme the world, that's done in warming us. 29Shine here to us, and thou art every where; 30This bed thy center is, these walls, thy spheare.