Author: John Donne

At the round earth’s imagined corners blow Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise From death, you numberless infinities Of souls, […]

He is stark mad, who ever says, That he hath been in love an hour, Yet not that love so […]

Now thou hast loved me one whole day, Tomorrow when thou leav’st, what wilt thou say? Wilt thou then antedate […]

Father, part of his double interest Unto thy kingdom, thy Son gives to me, His jointure in the knotty Trinity […]

Oh do not die, for I shall hate All women so, when thou art gone, That thee I shall not […]

Dear love, for nothing less than thee Would I have broke this happy dream; It was a theme For reason, […]

I am a little world made cunningly Of elements, and an angelic sprite; But black sin hath betrayed to endless […]

Busy old fool, unruly sun, Why dost thou thus, Through windows and through curtains, call on us? Must to thy […]

When by thy scorn, O murd’ress, I am dead, And that thou think’st thee free From all solicitation from me, […]

I can love both fair and brown, Her whom abundance melts, and her whom want betrays, Her who loves loneness […]