Thou art not so black as my heart,
Nor half so brittle as her heart, thou art ;
What would'st thou say ? shall both our properties by thee be spoke,
-Nothing more endless, nothing sooner broke?
Marriage rings are not of this stuff ;
Oh, why should ought less precious, or less tough
Figure our loves ? except in thy name thou have bid it say,
'-I'm cheap, and nought but fashion ; fling me away.'
Yet stay with me since thou art come,
Circle this finger's top, which didst her thumb ;
Be justly proud, and gladly safe, that thou dost dwell with me ;
She that, O ! broke her faith, would soon break thee.
A Jet Ring Sent
John Donne
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Poem topics: away, faith, marriage, stay, finger, precious, fashion, endless, black, cheap, circle, break, heart, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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