The Sun Rising
1 Busy old fool, unruly Sun,
2 Why dost thou thus,
3Through windows, and through curtains, call on us?
4Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?
5 Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
6 Late schoolboys, and sour prentices,
7 Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
8 Call country ants to harvest offices,
10Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
11 Thy beams, so reverend and strong
12 Why shouldst thou think?
13I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
14But that I would not lose her sight so long:
15 If her eyes have not blinded thine,
16 Look, and tomorrow late, tell me
18 Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with me.
19Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,
20And thou shalt hear: "All here in one bed lay."
21 She'is all states, and all princes I,
22 Nothing else is.
23Princes do but play us; compar'd to this,
25 Thou, sun, art half as happy'as we,
26 In that the world's contracted thus;
27 Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
28 To warm the world, that's done in warming us.
29Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
30This bed thy centre is, these walls, thy sphere.