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Holy Sonnets: Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt

By John Donne 1572–1631 John Donne

Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt

To nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,

And her soul early into heaven ravished,

Wholly in heavenly things my mind is set.

Here the admiring her my mind did whet

To seek thee, God; so streams do show the head;

But though I have found thee, and thou my thirst hast fed,

A holy thirsty dropsy melts me yet.

But why should I beg more love, whenas thou

Dost woo my soul, for hers off'ring all thine,

And dost not only fear lest I allow

My love to saints and angels, things divine,

But in thy tender jealousy dost doubt

Lest the world, flesh, yea devil put thee out.

Biography

John Donne's standing as a great English poet, and one of the greatest writers of English prose, is now assured. However, it has been confirmed only in the present century. The history of Donne's reputation is the most remarkable of any major writer in English; no other body of great poetry has fallen so far from favor for so long and been generally condemned as inept and crude. In Donne's own day his poetry was highly prized . . .

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