I fix mine eye on thine, and there
Pity my picture burning in thine eye;
My picture drowned in a transparent tear,
When I look lower I espy.
Hadst thou the wicked skill
By pictures made and mard, to kill,
How many ways mightst thou perform thy will?
But now I have drunk thy sweet salt tears,
And though thou pour more I’ll depart;
My picture vanished, vanish fears
That I can be endamaged by that art;
Though thou retain of me
One picture more, yet that will be,
Being in thine own heart, from all malice free.
(John Donne)
More Poetry from John Donne:
John Donne Poems based on Topics: Art- Metempsycosis (John Donne Poems)
- The Progres Of The Soule (John Donne Poems)
- The Lamentations Of Jeremy, For The Most Part According To Tremellus (John Donne Poems)
- An Anatomy Of The World... (John Donne Poems)
- A Litany (John Donne Poems)
- Eclogue (John Donne Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Art PoemsBased on Keywords: vanish, fears, wicked, pictures, malice, retain, hadst, perform, transparent, espy, mightst