John Donne
John Donne
John Donnewas an English poet and a cleric in the Church of England. He is considered the pre-eminent representative of the metaphysical poets. His works are noted for their strong, sensual style and include sonnets, love poems, religious poems, Latin translations, epigrams, elegies, songs, satires and sermons. His poetry is noted for its vibrancy of language and inventiveness of metaphor, especially compared to that of his contemporaries. Donne's style is characterised by abrupt openings and various paradoxes, ironies and dislocations...
heavens last
This is my play's last scene, here heavens appoint / My pilgrimage's last mile.
men heaven
Man hath weaved out a net, and this net throwne upon the Heavens, and now they are his own.
joy serenity heaven
Despair is the damp of hell, as joy is the serenity of heaven.
autumn heaven
In heaven it is always autumn.
true-joy heaven soul
True joy is the earnest which we have of heaven, it is the treasure of the soul, and therefore should be laid in a safe place, and nothing in this world is safe to place it in.
hair heaven soul
Who ever comes to shroud me, do not harm Nor question much 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 this to control, And keep these limbs, her provinces, from dissolution.
love heaven should
The heavens rejoice in motion, why should I Abjure my so much loved variety.
heaven kingdoms rich
The rich have no more of the kingdom of heaven than they have purchased of the poor by their alms.
heavenly dies
I shall not live 'till I see God; and when I have seen Him, I shall never die.
heaven soul body
Verse hath a middle nature: heaven keeps souls, The grave keeps bodies, verse the fame enrols.
balm earth general hath sap
The world's whole sap is sunk: / The general balm th' hydroptic earth hath drunk.
Be your own palace, or the world is your jail.
both break ghost happiest last selves sucks thou turn
So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss, / Which sucks two souls, and vapours both away,/ Turn thou ghost that way, and let me turn this, / And let our selves benight our happiest day.
goes propose sea sick true whoever
Whoever loves, if he do not propose the right true end of love, he's one that goes to sea for nothing but to make him sick