John Donne

John Donne

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John Donne (22 January 1572[1] – 31 March 1631) was an English poet, scholar, soldier and secretary born into a Catholic family, a remnant of the Catholic Revival, who reluctantly became a cleric in the Church of England.
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Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
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Она мертва; а так как, умирая,
Все возвращается к первооснове,
А мы основой друг для друга были
И друг из друга состояли,
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I scarce believe my love to be so pure As I had thought it was, Because it doth endure Vicissitude, and season, as the grass ;
Methinks I lied all winter, when I swore My love was infinite, if spring make it more
But if this medicine, lo...
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No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace As I have seen in one autumnal face
Young beauties force our love, and that's a rape, This doth but counsel, yet you cannot scape
If 'twere a shame to love, here 'twere no shame; Affection here...
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Both robb'd of air, we both lie in one ground ;
Both whom one fire had burnt, one water drown'd
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Since I am coming to that holy room, Where, with thy choir of saints for evermore, I shall be made thy music; as I come I tune the instrument here at the door, And what I must do then, think here before
Whilst my physicians by their love are ...
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Dear love, for nothing less than thee Would I have broke this happy dream; It was a theme For reason, much too strong for fantasy, Therefore thou wak'd'st me wisely; yet My dream thou brok'st not, but continued'st it
Thou art so true that tho...
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Death be not proud, though some have called
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not soe,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me
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Come live with me and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures
Of golden sands and crystal brooks,
With silken lines and silver hooks
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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;
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AY,
O sweet, and do not rise ;
The light that shines comes from thine eyes ;
The day breaks not, it is my heart,
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CE he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill, as that he knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me, and see my state, may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that...
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For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love, Or chide my palsy, or my gout, My five grey hairs, or ruin'd fortune flout, With wealth your state, your mind with arts improve, Take you a course, get you a place, Observe his Honour, or his Grace...
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If poisonous minerals, and if that
Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us,
If lecherous goats, if serpents
Cannot be damned, alas, why should I be
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Whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm Nor question
That subtle wreath of hair, which crowns my arm;
The mystery, the sign, you must not touch, For 'tis my outward soul,
Viceroy to that, which then to heaven being gone, Will leave ...
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от·
Death, be not proud, though some have called
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me
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