I WONDER by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we loved ? were we not wean'd till then ? But suck'd on country pleasures, childishly ? Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den ? 'Twas so ; but this, all pleasures fancies be ; If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee. And now good-morrow to our waking souls, Which watch not one another out of fear ; For love all love of other sights controls, And makes one little room an everywhere. Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone ; Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown ; Let us possess one world ; each hath one, and is one. My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, And true plain hearts do in the faces rest ; Where can we find two better hemispheres Without sharp north, without declining west ? Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally ; If our two loves be one, or thou and I Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die. |
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
The Good-Morrow, by John Donne
My name is Eminen - not Eminem
My name is Eminen – not Eminem. I want to make that clear. Don't mistake me for him. The differences between us are plain to see. I'...

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This week, I was thrilled to be at the RSC for the Blog Titus event, and sat mesmerised as the players wove a blood-spattered tale fro...
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Thomas Middleton had London in his DNA, and the city he lived and died in was a dirty, cruel and fascinating place. The turn of the ce...