<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=37442" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Sun Rising</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">BUSY old fool, unruly Sun,<br> Why dost thou thus,<br>Through windows, and through curtains, call on us?<br>Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?<br> Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide<br> Late school-boys and sour prentices,<br> Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,<br> Call country ants to harvest offices;<br>Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,<br>Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Thy beams so reverend, and strong<br> Why shouldst thou think?<br>I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,<br>But that I would not lose her sight so long.<br> If her eyes have not blinded thine,<br> Look, and to-morrow late tell me,<br> Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine<br> Be where thou left'st them, or lie here with me.<br>Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,<br>And thou shalt hear, "All here in one bed lay."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> She's all states, and all princes I;<br> Nothing else is;<br>Princes do but play us; compared to this,<br>All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy.<br> Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,<br> In that the world's contracted thus;<br> Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be<br> To warm the world, that's done in warming us.<br>Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;<br>This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Donne">John Donne</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=37442" data-title="The Sun Rising de John Donne" data-description="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 school-boys and sour prentices,/ Go tell court-huntsmen that the kin..."></div> </div> </div>

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