“Breake of day”

Tis true, ‘tis day, what though it be?
O wilt thou therefore rise from me?
Why should we rise because ‘tis light?
Did we lie down because ‘twas night?
Love, which in spight of darknesse brought us hether,
Should in despight of light keep us together.

Light hath no tongue, but is all eye;
If it could speake as well as spie,
This were the worst that it could say,
That being well I faine would stay,
And that I lov’d my heart and honor so,
That I would not from him, that had them, goe.

Must business thee from hence remove?
Oh, that’s the worst disease of love,
The poore, the foule, the false, love can
Admit, but not the busied man.
He which hath business, and makes love, doth doe
Such wrong, as when a married man doth wooe.

John Donne


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