Read "The Sun Rising" by John Donne online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
Busy old fool, unruly Sun, / Why dost thou thus, / Through windows, and through curtains, call on us? / Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run? / Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide / Late schoolboys and sour prentices, / Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride, / Call country ants to harvest offices; / Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime, / Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
Thy beams so reverend, and strong / Why shouldst thou think? / I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink, / But that I would not lose her sight so long. / If her eyes have not blinded thine, / Look, and tomorrow late tell me, / Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine / Be where thou left'st them, or lie here with me. / Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday, / And thou shalt hear, "All here in one bed lay."