John Donne, Holy Sonnets XVII.

John Donne, 

Holy Sonnets XVII.

I.M. Anne Donne

Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt
To Nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,
And her soul early into heaven ravishèd,
Wholly on 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 offering 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. 

Such wilt thou be to me, who must
Like th' other foot obliquely run;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end, where I begun.
A supple argument unfolds with lyric grace.

True Love

True love never fades nor dies. It is the oneness of a husband and wife, who share in holiness their life, on which their wholeness relies,

Even if they are apart - their hearts beat as one and they simply anew together start at their love's designated milestone

Into a new space and time, where they are free of all, who killed their bodies and reputations in word, thought and deed, and who made them every step of the way fall, only because they answered as a couple God's call.

Sigrid Countess von Galen