By John Donne
again with the old twins
Oft have I asked for thee, both how and where
Thou wert; and what my hopes of letters
As in our streets sly beggars
Watch motions of the fiver's hand or eye,
And evermore conceive
some hope thereby.
And now thy alms is given, thy letter's read,
The body risen again, the which was dead,
And thy poor
starveling bountifully fed.
After this banquet
doth say grace
And praise thee for 't, and zealously embrace
Thy love, though I think thy love in this case
To be as glutton
s, which say 'midst their meat,
They love that best of which they most do eat.