I wonder by my troth, what thou and I <br /> Did, till we lov'd? Were we not wean'd till then, <br /> But suck'd on country pleasures, childishly? <br /> Or snorted we in the seven sleepers' den? <br /> 'Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be. <br /> If ever any beauty I did see, <br /> Which I desir'd, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee. <br /> <br /> And now good morrow to our waking souls, <br /> Which watch not one another out of fear; <br /> For love, all love of other sights controls, <br /> And makes one little room, an everywhere. <br /> Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone, <br /> Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown, <br /> Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one. <br /> <br /> My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, <br /> And true plain hearts do in the faces rest; <br /> Where can we find two better hemispheres, <br /> Without sharp north, without declining west? <br /> Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally; <br /> If our two loves be one, or, thou and I <br /> Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.<br /><br />John Donne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-good-morrow/
