Come live with mee, and bee my love, <br />And wee will some new pleasures prove <br />Of golden sands, and christall brookes, <br />With silken lines, and silver hookes. <br /> <br />There will the river whispering runne <br />Warm'd by thy eyes, more than the Sunne. <br />And there the'inamor'd fish will stay, <br />Begging themselves they may betray. <br /> <br />When thou wilt swimme in that live bath, <br />Each fish, which every channell hath, <br />Will amorously to thee swimme, <br />Gladder to catch thee, than thou him. <br /> <br />If thou, to be so seene, beest loath, <br />By Sunne, or Moone, thou darknest both, <br />And if my selfe have leave to see, <br />I need not their light, having thee. <br /> <br />Let others freeze with angling reeds, <br />And cut their legges, with shells and weeds, <br />Or treacherously poore fish beset, <br />With strangling snare, or windowie net: <br /> <br />Let coarse bold hands, from slimy nest <br />The bedded fish in banks out-wrest, <br />Or curious traitors, sleavesilke flies <br />Bewitch poore fishes wandring eyes. <br /> <br />For thee, thou needst no such deceit, <br />For thou thy selfe art thine owne bait; <br />That fish, that is not catch'd thereby, <br />Alas, is wiser farre than I.<br /><br />John Donne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-baite/
