ELEGY IX. The Autumnal

No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace,
As I have seen in one autumnal face.
Young beauties force our love, and that’s a rape,
This doth but counsel, yet you cannot ’scape.
If ‘twere a shame to love, here ’twere no shame,
Affection here takes reverence’s name.
Were her first years the Golden Age? That’s true,
But now she’s gold oft tried, and ever new.
That was her torrid and inflaming time,
This is her tolerable tropic clime.
Fair eyes, who asks more heat than comes from hence,
He in a fever wishes pestilence.

—JOHN DONNE
 (1572-1631)
 (Excerpt)