Verse > John Donne > The Poems of John Donne
John Donne (1572–1631).  The Poems of John Donne.  1896.
Appendix A. Doubtful Poems
On a Flea on his Mistress’s Bosom
MADAM, that flea which crept between your breasts
I envied, that there he should make his rest;
The little creature’s fortune was so good
That angels feed not on so precious food.
How it did suck, how eager tickle you!        5
—Madam, shall fleas before me tickle you?—
O! I not hold can; pardon if I killed it;
—Sweet blood, to you I ask this—that which filled it
Ran from my lady’s breast. Come, happy flea,
That died for sucking of that milky sea.        10
O! now again I could e’en wish thee there,
About her heart, about her anywhere;
I would now (dear flea) that thou shouldst not die,
If thou couldst suck from her her cruelty.

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