Some that have deeper digg'd love's mine than I, <br />Say, where his centric happiness doth lie; <br /> I have lov'd, and got, and told, <br />But should I love, get, tell, till I were old, <br />I should not find that hidden mystery. <br /> Oh, 'tis imposture all! <br />And as no chemic yet th'elixir got, <br /> But glorifies his pregnant pot <br /> If by the way to him befall <br />Some odoriferous thing, or medicinal, <br /> So, lovers dream a rich and long delight, <br /> But get a winter-seeming summer's night. <br /> <br />Our ease, our thrift, our honour, and our day, <br /> Shall we for this vain bubble's shadow pay? <br /> Ends love in this, that my man <br />Can be as happy'as I can, if he can <br />Endure the short scorn of a bridegroom's play? <br /> That loving wretch that swears <br />'Tis not the bodies marry, but the minds, <br /> Which he in her angelic finds, <br /> Would swear as justly that he hears, <br />In that day's rude hoarse minstrelsy, the spheres. <br /> Hope not for mind in women; at their best <br /> Sweetness and wit, they'are but mummy, possess'd.<br /><br />John Donne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-s-alchemy/
