Sweetest Love, Wroth or Donne?!l

[Angel]

"Lady Mary Wroth (1587-1651)", a 17th century poetess, was a member of the Sidney literary talented family. She lived with her uncle Sir Philip Sidney for some years and under his and his wife's affecting persuasions sprouted her talent to several literary publications, some mrked as the firsts by a woman in English Literature. One of her published works is Pamphilia to Amphilantus

a book containing 103 songs and sonnets. The following song is taken from this book:

SWeetest Love returne againe,
Make not too long stay;
Killing mirth and forcing paine;
Sorrow leading way:
Let us not thus parted be,
Love, and absence ne're agree.
But since you must needs depart,
And me haplesse leave;
In your iourney take my heart,
Which will not deceive:
Yours it is, to you it flies,
Joying in those loved eyes.

So in part we shall not part,
Though we absent be,
Tyme, nor place, nor greatest smart,
Shall my bands make free:
Tyed I am, yet thinke it gaine,
In such knots I feele no paine.

But can I live, having lost
Chiefest part of me?
Heart is fled, and sight is crost,
These my fortunes be:
Yet deare heart goe, soone returne,
As good there as heere to burne.

Now read this other song initialized with the same phrase. This time it is written by the great doctor "John Donne(1572-1631)" the contemporary to Lady Mary.
It is not known that which poet read the other's song first, but you can compare the male and female touch of love besides the dignified language of the time.

SWEETEST love, I do not go,
For weariness of thee,
Nor in hope the world can show
A fitter love for me ;
But since that I
At the last must part, 'tis best,
Thus to use myself in jest
By feigned deaths to die.

Yesternight the sun went hence,
And yet is here to-day ;
He hath no desire nor sense,
Nor half so short a way ;
Then fear not me,
But believe that I shall make
Speedier journeys, since I take
More wings and spurs than he.

O how feeble is man's power,
That if good fortune fall,
Cannot add another hour,
Nor a lost hour recall ;
But come bad chance,
And we join to it our strength,
And we teach it art and length,
Itself o'er us to advance.

When thou sigh'st, thou sigh'st not wind,
But sigh'st my soul away ;
When thou weep'st, unkindly kind,
My life's blood doth decay.
It cannot be
That thou lovest me as thou say'st,
If in thine my life thou waste,
That art the best of me.

Let not thy divining heart
Forethink me any ill ;
Destiny may take thy part,
And may thy fears fulfil.
But think that we
Are but turn'd aside to sleep.
They who one another keep
Alive, ne'er parted be

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By: Angel