Batter my heart, three person’d God; for, you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o’erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn and make me new.
I, like an usurpt towne, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but Oh, to no end,
Reason your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv’d, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly 'I love you,’ and would be loved fain,
But am betroth’d unto your enemie:
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I
Except you enthrall mee, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
- John Donne (1573–1631)
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