The Expiration, by John Donne

So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss,
    Which sucks two souls, and vapours both away;
Turn, thou ghost, that way, and let me turn this,
    And let ourselves benight our happiest day.
We ask none leave to love; nor will we owe
    Any so cheap a death as saying, “Go.”

Go; and if that word have not quite killed thee,
    Ease me with death, by bidding me go too.
Or, if it have, let my word work on me,
    And a just office on a murderer do.
Except it be too late, to kill me so,
    Being double dead, going, and bidding, “Go.”

THE GOOD-MORROW

"I wonder by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we loved? were we not weaned till then?"

The Good-Morrow, by John Donne

I wonder by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved? Were we not wean'd till then? 
But suck'd on country pleasures, childishly? 
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den?
'Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be;
If ever any beauty I did see, 
Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.

And now good-morrow to our waking souls, 
Which watch not one another out of fear;
For love all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone;
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown;
Let us possess one world; each hath one, and is one. 

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, 
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
Where can we find two better hemispheres 
Without sharp north, without declining west?
Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally;
If our two loves be one, or thou and I 
Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die.