poem

The Prohibition — Sep 10, 2026

John Donne

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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.

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📖 About this poem

Donne builds this poem out of a paradox: he begs a woman not to love him, then not to hate him, then finally to do both at once, because either feeling taken to its extreme would kill him and, with him, kill her claim to the feeling itself. It's less a love poem than a piece of emotional chess, argued with the same restless logic Donne brings to his sermons. The three stanzas mirror each other in structure, each closing on the same tight couplet-turn, so the poem's music comes from repetition with a twist, like a mind circling a problem it can't quite solve. The sharpest image is the idea of the speaker as "thy stage, not triumph be" — a man asking to be the ongoing scene of someone's feeling rather than a trophy of it. What keeps it alive is that ache anyone recognizes: wanting to matter enough to someone that even their contradictions need you to survive.