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Poem by John Donne
I have done one braver thing Than all the Worthies did, And yet a braver thence doth spring, Which is, to keep that hid. It were but madness now t'impart The skill of specular stone, When he which can have learn'd the art To cut it, can find none. So, if I now should utter this, Others (because no more Such stuff to work upon, there is,) Would love but as before. But he who loveliness within Hath found, all outward loathes, For he who colour loves, and skin, Loves but their oldest clothes. If, as I have, you also do Virtue attir'd in woman see, And dare love that, and say so too, And forget the He and She; And if this love, though placed so, From profane men you hide, Which will no faith on this bestow, Or, if they do, deride: Then you have done a braver thing Than all the Worthies did; And a braver thence will spring, Which is, to keep that hid.
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