By John Donne
Go and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
Or who cleft the devil’s foot,
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy’s stinging,
Serves to advance an honest mind.
If thou be’st born to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
Till age snow white hairs on thee,
Thou, when thou return’st, wilt tell me,
All strange wonders that befell thee,
Lives a woman true, and fair.
If thou find’st one, let me know,
Such a pilgrimage were sweet;
Yet do not, I would not go,
Though at next door we might meet;
Though she were true, when you met her,
And last, till you write your letter,
False, ere I come, to two, or three.
Poetry Out Loud Note: In the print anthology, this poem is titled simply “Song.” The student may give either title during the recitation.
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Break of Day
‘Tis true, ‘tis day, what though it be?
O wilt thou therefore rise from me?
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Did we lie down because ‘twas night?
Love, which in spite of darkness brought us hither,
A Hymn to God the Father
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Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run,
And do run still, though still I do deplore?
When thou hast done,...
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We used to say,
That’s my heart right there.
As if to say,
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As if, don’t even play,
That’s a part of me right there.
In other words, okay okay,
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By noon we could discern their massive coils
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When I say But mother, Black or not Black,
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Though it does harden, a drying clay bust
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Anger is the other person inside
mi garganta, my throat.