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John Donne - A Jet Ring Sent
Work rating: Medium

Thou art not so black as my heart, 
    Nor half so brittle as her heart, thou art ; 
What would`st thou say ? shall both our properties by thee be spoke, 
    —Nothing more endless, nothing sooner broke? 

            Marriage rings are not of this stuff ; 
    Oh, why should ought less precious, or less tough 
Figure our loves ? except in thy name thou have bid it say, 
    "—I`m cheap, and nought but fashion ; fling me away." 

            Yet stay with me since thou art come, 
    Circle this finger`s top, which didst her thumb ; 
Be justly proud, and gladly safe, that thou dost dwell with me ; 
She that, O ! broke her faith, would soon break thee.
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