John Donne (1572–1631)

The Apparition c. 1600

When by thy scorn, O murderess, I am dead,

And that thou thinkst thee free

From all solicitation from me,

Then shall my ghost come to thy bed,

And thee, feigned vestal, in worse arms shall see; 5

Then thy sick taper° will begin to wink, candle

And he, whose thou art then, being tired before,

Will, if thou stir, or pinch to wake him, think

Thou call’st for more,

And in false sleep will from thee shrink. 10

And then, poor aspen wretch, neglected, thou,

Bathed in a cold quicksilver sweat, wilt lie

A verier° ghost than I. truer

What I will say, I will not tell thee now,

Lest that preserve thee; and since my love is spent, 15

I had rather thou shouldst painfully repent,

Than by my threatenings rest still innocent.