poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

Read more poems by John Donne: John Donne Poems at Poetry X.

When I am dead, and doctors know not why,
And my friends' curiosity
Will have me cut up to survey each part,— 
When they shall find your picture in my heart,
You think a sudden damp of love
Will through all their senses move,
And work on them as me, and so prefer
Your murder to the name of massacre.

Poor victories! But if you dare be brave,
And pleasure in your conquest have,
First kill th' enormous giant, your Disdain,
And let th' enchantress Honour next be slain,
And like a Goth and Vandal rise,
Deface records and histories
Of your own arts and triumphs over men,
And, without such advantage, kill me then.

For I could muster up as well as you
My giants, and my witches too,
Which are vast Constancy and Secretness;
But these I neither look for nor profess.
Kill me as woman, let me die
As a mere man; do you but try
Your passive valour, and you shall find then,
Naked you have odds enough of any man.

Added: 6 Oct 2002 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 4:19 PM | Viewed: 6336 times

A PoetryNotes™ Analysis of The Damp by John Donne, is Available!

A PoetryNotes™ eBook is available for this poem for delivery within 24 hours, and usually available within minutes during normal business hours.

ON SALE - only $29.95 19.95!

For more information...