John Donne (1573–1631) was an English poet and cleric in the Church of England. He is considered the pre-eminent representative of the metaphysical poets. His poetry is noted for its vibrancy of language and inventiveness of metaphor, especially compared to that of his contemporaries.
When by thy scorn, O murd'ress, I am dead
And that thou think'st thee free
From all solicitation from me,
Then shall my ghost come to thy bed,
And thee, feign'd vestal, in worse arms shall see;
Then thy sick taper will begin to wink,
And...
Salute the last and everlasting day,
Joy at the uprising of this sun, and son,
Ye whose true tears, or tribulation
Have purely washed, or burnt your drossy clay;
Behold the Highest, parting hence away,
Lightens the dark clouds, which he treads upon;
Nor...
Death, be not proud, though some have called 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.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much...
Wilt thou love God, as he thee! Then digest,
My soule, this wholsome meditation,
How God the Spirit, by Angels waited on
In heaven, doth make his Temple in thy breast.
The Father having begot a Sonne most blest,
And still begetting, (for he ne'r...
Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb,
Now leaves His well-belov'd imprisonment,
There He hath made Himself to His intent
Weak enough, now into the world to come;
But O, for thee, for Him, hath the inn no room?
Yet lay Him in...
