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John Donne : The Anniversarie

	All Kings, and all their favourites,
	All glory of honor, beauties, wits,
The Sun it selfe, which makes times, as they passe,
Is elder by a yeare, now, then it was
When thou and I first one another saw:
All other things, to their destruction draw,
	Only our love hath no decay;
This, no to morrow hath, nor yesterday,
Running it never runs from us away,
But truly keepes his first, last, everlasting day.

	Two graves must hide thine and my coarse1,
	If one might, death were no divorce,
Alas, as well as other Princes, wee
(Who Prince enough in one another bee,)
Must leave at last in death, these eyes, and eares,
Oft fed with true oathes, and with sweet salt teares;
	But soules where nothing dwells but love
(All other thoughts being inmates) then shall prove
This, or a love increased there above,
When bodies to their graves, soules from their graves

	And then wee shall be throughly blest,
	But wee no more, then all the rest;
Here upon earth, we’are Kings, and none but wee
Can be such Kings, nor of such subjects bee;
Who is so safe as wee? where none can doe
Treason to us, except one of us two.
	True and false feares let us refraine,
Let us love nobly, and live, and adde again
Yeares and yeares unto yeares, till we attaine
To write threescore: this is the second of our raigne. 

John Donne (1572-1631)	P. 1633

1 corpse

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