Explore "Sweetest Love, I do not Go" by John Donne on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Sweetest love, I do not go, / For weariness of thee, / Nor in hope the world can show / A fitter love for me; / But since that I / At the last must part, 'tis best, / Thus to use myself in jest / By feigned deaths to die.
Yesternight the sun went hence, / And yet is here today; / He hath no desire nor sense, / Nor half so short a way; / Then fear not me, / But believe that I shall make / Speedier journeys, since I take / More wings and spurs than he.