poem

The Prohibition, Sep 27, 2026

John Donne

0 votes
◆

Take heed of loving me;
At least remember I forbade it thee;
Not that I shall repair my unthrifty waste
Of breath and blood, upon thy sighs and tears,
By being to thee then what to me thou wast;
But so great joy our life at once outwears;
Then, lest thy love by my death frustrate be,
If thou love me, take heed of loving me.

Take heed of hating me,
Or too much triumph in the victory;
Not that I shall be mine own officer,
And hate with hate again retaliate;
But thou wilt lose the style of conqueror
If I, thy conquest, perish by thy hate;
Then, lest my being nothing lessen thee,
If thou hate me, take heed of hating me.

Yet, love and hate me too;
So, these extremes shall neither's office do;
Love me, that I may die the gentler way;
Hate me, because thy love is too great for me;
Or let these two themselves, not me, decay;
So shall I live thy stage, not triumph be;
Lest thou thy love and hate and me undo,
To let me live, O love and hate me too.

◆

Comments

  1. Loading comments…
📖 About this poem

Donne builds this poem like an argument, not a confession. He tells his lover to be careful loving him, careful hating him, then flips the paradox entirely by begging for both at once. Each stanza works as a small proof, weighing love against death, hatred against victory, with the logic of someone thinking out loud while clearly aching underneath. The music helps sell the puzzle: tight rhyming couplets and a refrain that returns like a held breath, so the poem feels closed and inevitable even as the reasoning bends back on itself.

The sharpest image is the lover as conqueror who loses her "style" if her conquest simply dies of her hate — triumph undone by its own success. It lands today because it captures something real about intense relationships: too much devotion or too much anger can both burn a person out, and survival sometimes needs a stubborn, illogical balance of both.

⚠ Sandbox · not production