The Apparition, by John Donne
When by thy scorn, O murd'ress, I am dead,
And that thou thinkst thee free
From all solicita...
Poems by John Donne
The Canonization, by John Donne
For Godsake hold your tongue, and let me love,
Or chide my palsy, or my gout,
My five gray ...
The Ecstasy, by John Donne
Where, like a pillow on a bed
A pregnant bank swell'd up to rest
The violet's reclining head...
The Funeral, by John Donne
Whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm
Nor question much
That subtle wreath of hair about min...
Song, by John Donne
Sweetest love, I do not go
For weariness of thee,
Nor in hope the world can show
A fitter lo...
The Sun Rising, by John Donne
Busy old fool, unruly Sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains call o...
To His Mistress Going to Bed, by John Donne
Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
Until I labor, I in labor lie.
The foe oft-tim...