Poems by John Donne
Holy Sonnet XVI: Father
... This Lamb, whose death, with life the world hath blest, ...
Community
... Then some wee might hate, and some choose ...
La Corona
... The ends crown our works, but Thou crown'st our ends, ...
Satire II
... Where are those spred woods which cloth'd heretofore ...
Temple
... But as for one which hath a long task, 'tis good,&emsp ...
Holy Sonnet VI: This Is My Playes Last Scene
... Then, as my soul, to'heaven her first seat, takes flight, ...
Valediction to his Book
... Schools might learn sciences, spheres music, angels verse ...
From The Cross
... All the Globes frame, and spheres, is nothing else &emsp ...
Crucifying
... But O ! the worst are most, they will and can,&emsp ...
The Harbinger
... Those acts, those songs shall still content them best ...
Nativity
... Which fills all place, yet none holds Him, doth lie ...
The Annunciation And Passion
... Or as though one blood drop, which thence did fall, ...
A Sheaf Of Snakes Used Heretofore To Be My Seal, The Crest Of Our Poor Family
... And may that saint which rides in our great seal, ...
An Obscure Writer
... Philo with twelve years' study hath been grieved ...
Satire I
... Now leaps he upright, joggs me,'and cryes, 'Do'you see ...
