By
John Donne.
Pregnant again with the old
twins,
Hope and
Fear,
Oft have I asked for thee, both how and where
Thou wert; and what my hopes of
letters were;
As in our streets sly
beggars narrowly
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 my
soul doth say
grace,
And praise thee for 't, and zealously
embrace
Thy love, though I think thy love in this case
To be as
gluttons, which say 'midst their meat,
They love that best of which they most do eat.