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The Blossom by John Donne
LITTLE think’st thou, poor flower,Whom I’ve watch’d six or seven days,And seen thy birth, and seen what every hourGave to…
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The Broken Heart by John Donne
He is stark mad, whoever says,That he hath been in love an hour,Yet not that love so soon decays,But that…
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The Canonization by John Donne
FOR God’s sake hold your tongue, and let me love;Or chide my palsy, or my gout;My five gray hairs, or…
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The Computation by John Donne
For my first twenty years, since yesterday,I scarce believed thou couldst be gone away;For forty more I fed on favours…
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The Curse by John Donne
WHOEVER guesses, thinks, or dreams, he knowsWho is my mistress, wither by this curse;Him, only for his purseMay some dull…
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The Damp by John Donne
WHEN I am dead, and doctors know not why,And my friends’ curiosityWill have me cut up to survey each part,When…
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The Dissolution by John Donne
SHE’s dead; and all which dieTo their first elements resolve;And we were mutual elements to us,And made of one another.My…
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The Dream by John Donne
DEAR love, for nothing less than theeWould I have broke this happy dream;It was a themeFor reason, much too strong…
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The Flea by John Donne
Mark but this flea, and mark in this,How little that which thou deniest me is;It suck’d me first, and now…
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The Funeral by John Donne
WHOEVER comes to shroud me, do not harm,Nor question much,That subtle wreath of hair, which crowns my arm;The mystery, the…
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