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Holy Sonnets
Upon the Annunciation and Passion

by John Donne

Falling upon one day. 1608 

Tamely, fraile body,' abstaine to day; to day 
My soule eates twice, Christ hither and away. 
She sees him man, so like God made in this, 
That of them both a circle embleme is, 
Whose first and last concurre; this doubtfull day 
Of feast or fast, Christ came, and went away. 
Shee sees him nothing twice at once, who'is all; 
Shee sees a Cedar plant it selfe, and fall, 
Her Maker put to making, and the head 
Of life, at once, not yet alive, yet dead. 
She sees at once the virgin mother stay 
Reclus'd at home, Publique at Golgotha; 
Sad and rejoyc'd shee's seen at once, and seen 
At almost fiftie, and at scarce fifteene. 
At once a Sonne is promis'd her, and gone, 
Gabriell gives Christ to her, He her to John; 
Not fully a mother, Shee's in Orbitie, 
At once receiver and the legacie. 
All this, and all betweene, this day hath showne, 
Th' Abridgement of Christs story, which makes one 
(As in plaine Maps, the furthest West is East) 
Of the'Angels Ave, 'and Consummatum est. 
How well the Church, Gods Court of faculties 
Deales, in some times, and seldome joyning these! 
As by the selfe-fix'd Pole wee never doe 
Direct our course, but the next starre thereto, 
Which showes where the' other is, and which we say 
(Because it strayes not farre) doth never stray; 
So God by his Church, neerest to him, wee know, 
And stand firme, if wee by her motion goe; 
His Spirit, as his fiery Pillar doth 
Leade, and his Church, as cloud; to one end both. 
This Church, by letting these daies joyne, hath shown 
Death and conception in mankinde is one; 
Or'twas in him the same humility, 
That be would be a man, and leave to be: 
Or as creation he hath made, as God, 
With the last judgement, but one period, 
His imitating Spouse would joyne in one 
Manhoods extremes: He shall come, he is gone: 
Or as though one blood drop, which thence did fall, 
Accepted, would have serv' d, he yet shed all; 
So though the least of his paines, deeds, or words, 
Would busie a life she all this day affords; 
This treasure then, in grosse, my Soule uplay, 
And in my life retaile it every day. 
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