I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then?
But sucked on country pleasures, childishly?
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den?
'Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be.
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, 'twas 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 everywhere.
Let sea-discoveres to new 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?
Whatever dies was not mixed equally,
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I
Love so alike that none do slacken, none can die.
This is my favourite love poem. Donne wonders what did he and his lover do up to this point. Their previous loves were just childplay, but a dream compared to the reality of this true love. True love controls, perhaps satisfies, the appetite of the eye. Their love makes the one shared room, an everywhere. Thus, they need not travel and find adventure as explorers, because each other is an eternal world to explore. The lovers, so close, can see their own images reflected in the eye of the other: his in hers, and hers in his. There is no northern coldness in the world of their eyes. Their love is true, and if it they love each other equally, it will not grow weak, or die.