Literature
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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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The Good-Morrow by John Donne
I WONDER by my troth, what thou and IDid, till we loved? were we not wean’d till then?But suck’d on…
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The Indifferent by John Donne
I CAN love both fair and brown;Her whom abundance melts, and her whom want betrays;Her who loves loneness best, and…
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The Legacy by John Donne
When last I died, and, dear, I dieAs often as from thee I go,Though it be but an hour ago—And…
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The Message by John Donne
SEND home my long stray’d eyes to me,Which, O! too long have dwelt on thee;Yet since there they have learn’d…
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The Paradox by John Donne
No lover saith, I love, nor any otherCan judge a perfect lover;He thinks that else none can or will agree,That…
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