‘Tis true, ’tis day, what though it be?
O wilt thou therefore rise from me?
Why should we rise, because ’tis light?
Did we lie down, because ’twas night?
Love which in spite of darkness brought us hither,
Should in despite of light keep us together.
Must business thee from hence remove?
Oh, that’s the worst disease of love,
The poor, the foul, the false, love can
Admit, but not the busied man.
He which hath business, and makes love, doth do
Such wrong, as when a married man doth woo.
John Donne, The major Works, Oxford World’s Classics, Oxford University Press, 1990, p. 102.
[Re-posted from The Old Site, original dd. 16/11/2008. No idea what this will be about.]
Nothing like an early 17th century poem delivering an early 21st century truth. It is a testament to the ease with which words can travel. ‘Busy, busy, busy,’ – the more time we reclaim from nature, the less time we feel to have.