| Herbert J.C. Grierson, ed. (1886–1960). Metaphysical Lyrics & Poems of the 17th C. 1921. |
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| John Donne |
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| 8. Twicknam garden |
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| BLASTED with sighs, and surrounded with teares, | |
| Hither I come to seeke the spring, | |
| And at mine eyes, and at mine eares, | |
| Receive such balmes, as else cure every thing; | |
| But O, selfe traytor, I do bring | 5 |
| The spider love, which transubstantiates all, | |
| And can convert Manna to gall, | |
| And that this place may thoroughly be thought | |
| True Paradise, I have the serpent brought. | |
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| 'Twere wholsomer for mee, that winter did | 10 |
| Benight the glory of this place, | |
| And that a grave frost did forbid | |
| These trees to laugh, and mocke mee to my face; | |
| But that I may not this disgrace | |
| Indure, nor yet leave loving, Love let mee | 15 |
| Some senslesse peece of this place bee; | |
| Make me a mandrake, so I may groane here, | |
| Or a stone fountaine weeping out my yeare. | |
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| Hither with christall vyals, lovers come, | |
| And take my teares, which are loves wine, | 20 |
| And try your mistresse Teares at home, | |
| For all are false, that tast not just like mine; | |
| Alas, hearts do not in eyes shine, | |
| Nor can you more judge womans thoughts by teares, | |
| Then by her shadow, what she weares. | 25 |
| O perverse sexe, where none is true but shee, | |
| Who's therefore true, because her truth kills mee. | |
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