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John Donne

0 190

When by thy scorn, O murd'ress, I am dead And that thou think'st thee free From all solicitation from me, Then shall my ghost come to thy bed, And thee, feign'd vestal, in worse arms shall see; Then thy sick taper will begin to wink, And...
0 397

Salute the last and everlasting day, Joy at the uprising of this sun, and son, Ye whose true tears, or tribulation Have purely washed, or burnt your drossy clay; Behold the Highest, parting hence away, Lightens the dark clouds, which he treads upon; Nor...
1 1458

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. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much...
1 4390

Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb, Now leaves His well-belov'd imprisonment, There He hath made Himself to His intent Weak enough, now into the world to come; But O, for thee, for Him, hath the inn no room? Yet lay Him in...