Poems by John Donne
To Mr. Tilman After He Had Taken Orders
... And the earth, our mother, which these things doth bear ...
Death Be Not Proud
... Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men, ...
The Will
... To invent, and practise this one way, to annihilate all three ...
On The Progress Of The Soul...
... Think that they shroud thee up, and think from thence ...
Elegy:The End of Funeral Elegies
... Admit to that place this last funeral scroll ...
The Funerall
... As prisoners then are manacled, when they'are condemn'd to die ...
Sonnet Cycle For Lady Magdalen
... The ends crowne our workes, but thou crown'st our ends, ...
A Litany
... Thine ear to our sighs, tears, thoughts, gives voice and word ...
To George Herbert,
... Hinc mihi Crux primo quæ fronti impressa lavacro, ...
To The Praise Of The Dead And The Anatomy
... Whose state requites their losse: whiles thus we gaine ...
The Computation
... And forty on hopes that thou wouldst they might last ...
Daybreak
... The light that shines comes from thine eyes ...
A Nocturnal upon St. Lucy's Day, Being the Shortest Day
... All others, from all things, draw all that's good, ...
TO Mr.T.W.
... To be as gluttons, which say 'midst their meat, ...
Raderus
... As Katherine, for the court's sake, put down stews ...
