| John Donne (1572–1631). The Poems of John Donne. 1896. | | | | Songs and Sonnets | | The Dream |
| | | DEAR love, for nothing less than thee | |
| Would I have broke this happy dream; | |
| It was a theme | |
| For reason, much too strong for fantasy. | |
| Therefore thou waked’st me wisely; yet | 5 |
| My dream thou brokest not, but continued’st 1 it. | |
| Thou art so true 2 that thoughts of thee suffice | |
| To make dreams truths, and fables histories; | |
| Enter these arms, for since thou thought’st it best, | |
| Not to dream all my dream, let’s act the rest. | 10 |
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| As lightning, or a taper’s light, | |
| Thine eyes, and not thy noise waked me; | |
| Yet I thought thee | |
| —For thou lovest truth—an angel, at first sight; | |
| But when I saw thou saw’st my heart, | 15 |
| And knew’st my thoughts beyond an angel’s art, | |
| When thou knew’st what I dreamt, when thou knew’st 3 when | |
| Excess of joy would wake me, and camest then, | |
| I must confess, it could not choose but be | |
| Profane, to think thee any thing but thee. | 20 |
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| Coming and staying show’d thee, thee, | |
| But rising makes me doubt, that now | |
| Thou art not thou. | |
| That love is weak where fear’s as 4 strong as he; | |
| ’Tis not all spirit, pure and brave, | 25 |
| If mixture it of fear, shame, honour have; | |
| Perchance as torches, which must ready be, | |
| Men light and put out, so thou deal’st with me; | |
| Thou camest to kindle, go’st to come; 5 then I | |
| Will dream that hope again, but else would die. | 30 |
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