The Good-Morrow

I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I
did, till we lov'd? Were we not wean'd till then,
but suck'd on country pleasures, childishly?
Or snored we in the seven sleepers den?
'T was so; but this, all pleasures fancies be.
If ever any beauty I did see,
which I desired and got, 't was 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 every-where.
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?
What ever dies, was not mix'd equally;
if our two loves be one, or thou and I
love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.

John Donne