John Donne

(24 January 1572 - 31 March 1631 / London, England)

John Donne Poems

161. The Paradox 1/3/2003
162. The Primrose 1/13/2003
163. The Prohibition 1/3/2003
164. The Relic 5/14/2001
165. The Soule 10/21/2014
166. The Sun Rising 5/14/2001
167. The Token 1/1/2004
168. The Triple Fool 1/13/2003
169. The Undertaking 1/3/2003
170. The Will 4/9/2010
171. To George Herbert, 4/9/2010
172. To His Mistress Going To Bed 5/14/2001
173. To Mr. I. P. 4/9/2010
174. To Mr. Rowland Woodward 4/9/2010
175. To Mr. Samuel Brooke 4/9/2010
176. To Mr. Tilman After He Had Taken Orders 4/9/2010
177. To Mr.I.L. 4/9/2010
178. To Mr.T.W. 4/9/2010
179. To Sir Henry Goodyere 4/9/2010
180. To Sir Henry Wotton 4/9/2010
181. To Sir Henry Wotton At His Going Ambassador To Venice 4/9/2010
182. To Sir Henry Wotton Ii 4/9/2010
183. To The Countess Of Bedford I 4/9/2010
184. To The Countess Of Bedford Ii 4/9/2010
185. To The Earl Of Doncaster 4/9/2010
186. To The Lady Magdalen Herbert, Of St. Mary Magdalen 4/9/2010
187. To The Praise Of The Dead And The Anatomy 4/9/2010
188. Translated Out Of Gazaeus, 4/9/2010
189. Twickenham Garden 4/9/2010
190. Upon The Translation Of The Psalms By Sir Philip Sidney And The Countess Of Pembroke, His Sister 4/9/2010
191. Valediction To His Book 4/9/2010
192. Witchcraft By A Picture 1/13/2003
193. Woman's Constancy 1/3/2003
Best Poem of John Donne

No Man Is An Island

No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thy friend's
Or of thine own were:
Any man's death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.

Read the full of No Man Is An Island

The Ecstasy

Where, like a pillow on a bed
A pregnant bank swell'd up to rest
The violet's reclining head,
Sat we two, one another's best.
Our hands were firmly cemented
With a fast balm, which thence did spring;
Our eye-beams twisted, and did thread
Our eyes upon one double string;
So to'intergraft our hands, as yet

[Hata Bildir]