Poems begining by H
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Holy Sonnet XVI: Father, Part Of His Double Interest
© John Donne
Father, part of his double interest
Unto thy kingdom, thy Son gives to me,
His jointure in the knotty Trinity
He keeps, and gives to me his death's conquest.
Holy Sonnet VIII: If Faithful Souls Be Alike Glorified
© John Donne
If faithful souls be alike glorified
As angels, then my fathers soul doth see,
And adds this even to full felicity,
That valiantly I hells wide mouth o'erstride:
Holy Sonnet XV: Wilt Thou Love God, As He Thee? Then Digest
© John Donne
Wilt thou love God, as he thee? Then digest,
My soul, this wholesome meditation,
How God the Spirit, by angels waited on
In heaven, doth make his Temple in thy breast.
Holy Sonnet XII: Why Are We By All Creatures Waited On?
© John Donne
Why are we by all creatures waited on?
Why do the prodigal elements supply
Life and food to me, being more pure than I,
Simple, and further from corruption?
Holy Sonnet II: As Due By Many Titles I Resign
© John Donne
As due by many titles I resign
My self to Thee, O God; first I was made
By Thee, and for Thee, and when I was decayed
Thy blood bought that, the which before was Thine;
Holy Sonnet III: O Might Those Sighs And Tears Return Again
© John Donne
O might those sighs and tears return again
Into my breast and eyes, which I have spent,
That I might in this holy discontent
Mourn with some fruit, as I have mourned in vain;
Holy Sonnet IV: Oh My Black Soul! Now Art Thou Summoned
© John Donne
Oh my black soul! now art thou summoned
By sickness, death's herald, and champion;
Thou art like a pilgrim, which abroad hath done
Treason, and durst not turn to whence he is fled;
Holy Sonnet I: Tho Has Made Me
© John Donne
Tho has made me, and shall thy work decay?
Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste;
I run to death, and death meets me as fast,
And all my pleasures are like yesterday.
Holy Sonnet XIX: Oh, To Vex Me, Contraries Meet In One
© John Donne
Oh, to vex me, contraries meet in one:
Inconstancy unnaturally hath begot
A constant habit; that when I would not
I change in vows, and in devotion.
Holy Sonnet XIII: What If This Present Were The World's Last Night?
© John Donne
What if this present were the world's last night?
Mark in my heart, O soul, where thou dost dwell,
The picture of Christ crucified, and tell
Whether that countenance can thee affright,
Holy Sonnet IX: If Poisonous Minerals, And If That Tree
© John Donne
If poisonous minerals, and if that tree
Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us,
If lecherous goats, if serpents envious
Cannot be damned, alas, why should I be?
Holy Sonnet XVIII: Show me, dear Christ, thy Spouse, so bright and clear
© John Donne
Show me, dear Christ, thy Spouse, so bright and clear.
What! is it She, which on the other shore
Goes richly painted? or which, robbed and tore,
Laments and mourns in Germany and here?
Holy Sonnet XI: Spit In My Face You Jews, And Pierce My Side
© John Donne
Spit in my face you Jews, and pierce my side,
Buffet, and scoff, scourge, and crucify me,
For I have sinned, and sinned, and only he
Who could do no iniquity hath died:
Holy Sonnet VI: This Is My Play's Last Scene, Here Heavens Appoint
© John Donne
This is my play's last scene, here heavens appoint
My pilgrimage's last mile; and my race
Idly, yet quickly run, hath this last pace,
My span's last inch, my minute's latest point,
Holy Sonnet V: I Am A Little World Made Cunningly
© John Donne
I am a little world made cunningly
Of elements, and an angelic sprite;
But black sin hath betrayed to endless night
My worlds both parts, and (oh!) both parts must die.
Holy Sonnet XVII: Since She Whom I Loved
© John Donne
Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt
To Nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,
And her soul early into heaven ravished,
Wholly on heavenly things my mind is set.
Holy Sonnet VII: At The Round Earth's Imagined Corners Blow
© John Donne
At the round earth's imagined corners blow
Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise
From death, you numberless infinities
Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go,
Holy Sonnet X: Death Be Not Proud
© John Donne
Death, be not proud, though some have callèd 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.
Holy Sonnet XIV: Batter My Heart, Three-Personed God
© John Donne
Batter my heart, three-personed God; for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
Huazi Ridge
© Wang Wei
Fly bird go no limit
Join mountain again autumn colour
Up down Huazi Ridge
Melancholy feeling what extreme
