To His Mistress Going To Bed

Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
 Until I labour, I in labour lie.
 The foe oft-times having the foe in sight,
 Is tired with standing though they never fight.
Off with that girdle, like heaven's zone glistering,
 But a far fairer world encompassing.
 Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear,
 That th' eyes of busy fools may be stopped there.
 Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime
 Tells me from you, that now 'tis your bed time.
 Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
 That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
 Your gown going off, such beauteous state reveals,
As when from flowery meads th' hill's shadow steals.
 Off with that wiry coronet and show
 The hairy diadem which on you doth grow;
 Now off with those shoes, and then safely tread
 In this love's hallowed temple, this soft bed.
 In such white robes heaven's angels used to be
 Received by men; thou angel bring'st with thee
 A heaven like Mahomet's paradise; and though
 Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know
 By this these angels from an evil sprite,
 Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.
 License my roving hands, and let them go
 Before, behind, between, above, below.
 O my America, my new found land,
 My kingdom, safeliest when with one man manned,
 My mine of precious stones, my empery,
 How blessed am I in this discovering thee!
 To enter in these bonds, is to be free;
 Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be.
 Full nakedness, all joys are due to thee
 As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be,
 To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use
 Are like Atlanta's balls, cast in men's views,
 That when a fool's eye lighteth on a gem,
 His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them.
 Like pictures, or like books' gay coverings made
 For laymen, are all women thus arrayed;
 Themselves are mystic books, which only we
 Whom their imputed grace will dignify
 Must see revealed. Then since I may know,
 As liberally, as to a midwife, show
 Thyself: cast all, yea, this white linen hence,
 Here is no penance, much less innocence.
 To teach thee, I am naked first, why then
 What needst thou have more covering than a man.

John Donne