Read "To his Mistress Going to Bed" by John Donne online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
Come, madam, come, all rest my powers defy; / Until I labour, I in labour lie. / The foe ofttimes, having the foe in sight, / Is tired with standing, though he never fight. / Off with that girdle, like heaven's zone glittering, / But a far fairer world encompassing. / Unpin that spangled breastplate, which you wear, / That th' eyes of busy fools may be stopp'd there. / Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime / Tells me from you that now it is bedtime. / Off with that happy busk, which I envy, / That still can be, and still can stand so nigh. / Your gown going off such beauteous state reveals, / As when from flowery meads th' hill's shadow steals. / Off with your wiry coronet, and show / The hairy diadems which on you do grow / Off with your hose and shoes; then softly tread / In this love's hallow'd temple, this soft bed. / In such white robes heaven's angels used to be / Revealed to men; thou, angel, bring'st with thee / A heaven-like Muhammad's paradise; and though / Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know / By this these angels from an evil sprite; / Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.
Licence my roving hands, and let them go / Before, behind, between, above, below. / Oh, my America, my Newfoundland, / My kingdom, safest when with one man mann'd, / My mine of precious stones, my empery; / How am I blest in thus discovering thee! / To enter in these bonds, is to be free; / Then, where my hand is set, my soul shall be.