Here you will find the Poem Elegy VII of poet John Donne
Nature's lay idiot, I taught thee to love, And in that sophistry, Oh, thou dost prove Too subtle: Foole, thou didst not understand The mystic language of the eye nor hand: Nor couldst thou judge the difference of the air Of sighs, and say, This lies, this sounds despair: Nor by th' eyes water call a malady Desperately hot, or changing feverously. I had not taught thee, then, the Alphabet Of flowers, how they devisefully being set And bound up might with speechless secrecy Deliver errands mutely, and mutually. Remember since all thy words used to be To every suitor, Ay, if my friends agree; Since, household charms, thy husband's name to teach, Were all the love tricks that thy wit could reach; And since, an hour's discourse could scarce have made One answer in thee, and that ill arrayed In broken proverbs and torn sentences. Thou art not by so many duties his, That from the world's Common having severed thee, Inlaid thee, neither to be seen, nor see, As mine: who have with amorous delicacies Refined thee into a blisful Paradise. Thy graces and good words my creatures be; I planted knowledge and life's tree in thee, Which Oh, shall strangers taste? Must I alas Frame and enamel plate, and drink in glass? Chaf wax for others' seals? break a colt's force And leave him then, being made a ready horse?