Read "To Mr. I. L.: of that Short Roll of Friends Writ in my Heart" by John Donne online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
Of that short roll of friends writ in my heart, / Which with thy name begins, since their depart, / Whether in th' English provinces they be, / Or drink of Po, Sequane, or Danuby, / There's none that sometime greets us not, and yet / Your Trent is Lethe; that past, us you forget. / You do not duties of societies, / If from th' embrace of a loved wife you rise, / View your fat beasts, stretch'd barns, and labour'd fields, / Eat, play, ride, take all joys which all day yields, / And then again to your embracements go. / Some hours on us your friends, and some bestow / Upon your Muse, else both we shall repent; / I that my love, she that her gifts on you are spent.