The Flea

Mark but this flea, and mark in this, How little that which thou deniest me is; It sucked me first, and now sucks thee, And in this flea, our two bloods mingled be.

Thou know’st that this cannot be said A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead, Yet this enjoys before it woo, And pampered swells with one blood made of two.

This flea is you and I, and this Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is: Though parents grudge, and you, we are met, And though they may be the same, they cannot be bet.

Oh, stay, three lives in one flea spare, Where we almost, nay more than married are. This flea is you and I, while all our pleasures share, And one blood can both reside and spare.

Nay, more than these, thyself is love, And let not all thee slip or uproar thee, let thee abide! Here, we embrace natural life coveting the dew, In our one blood replete with wonder, hide and confide!

• John Donne