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    The Compass, by John Donne

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    Done The Compass, by John Donne

    Post by Guest on Wed Mar 16, 2011 11:23 pm

    Remember the compass I drew..

    Dull sublunary lovers' love
    (Whose soul is sense) cannot admit
    Absence, because it doth remove
    Those things which elemented it.


    But we by a love so much refin'd,
    That ourselves know not what it is,
    Inter-assured of the mind,
    Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.


    Our two souls therefore, which are one,
    Though I must go, endure not yet
    A breach, but an expansion,
    Like gold to airy thinness beat.


    If they be two, they are two so
    As stiff twin compasses are two;
    Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
    To move, but doth, if the' other do.


    And though it in the centre sit,
    Yet when the other far doth roam,
    It leans, and hearkens after it,
    And grows erect, as that comes home.


    Such wilt thou be to me, who must
    Like th' other foot, obliquely run;
    Thy firmness makes my circle just,
    And makes me end, where I begun.


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