John Donne

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

Comments about John Donne

  • askliterature.com (1/14/2019 4:47:00 AM)

    No match for John Donne
    Read more about him at:
    http: //www.askliterature.com/john-donne/

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  • Sumana kanjilal (11/1/2018 1:19:00 AM)

    ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘

  • mithun (9/6/2018 12:43:00 AM)

    superbb this poems and i am proud of tihs poem

  • md adil (7/5/2018 5:07:00 AM)

    nice poem

  • sticks (12/1/2017 8:42:00 PM)

    all sticks are back and are shitty too

  • Poopy Butt (10/30/2017 12:23:00 PM)

    I pooped my pants last night four times last night and my room smells like Elenaโ€™s nasty vagina.

  • Poopy Butt (10/30/2017 12:22:00 PM)

    I pooped my pants four times last night and my room smells like Daisyโ€™s nasty vagina.

  • Anandkishor Chakravarty (6/2/2017 1:30:00 PM)

    Candid philosopher

  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (3/2/2016 1:50:00 PM)

    About the statement: ''He [John Donne] is considered the pre-eminent representative of the metaphysical poets''.:

    In the chapter on Abraham Cowley in his Lives of the Most Eminent English Poets (1779โ€“81) , Samuel Johnson refers to the beginning of the seventeenth century in which there appeared a race of writers that may be termed the metaphysical poets. This does not necessarily imply that he intended metaphysical to be used in its true sense, in that he was probably referring to a witticism of John Dryden, who said of John Donne:

    He affects the metaphysics, not only in his satires, but in his amorous verses, where nature only should reign; and perplexes the minds of the fair sex with nice speculations of philosophy, when he should engage their hearts, and entertain them with the softnesses of love. In this... Mr. Cowley has copied him to a fault.
    ...

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 Bait

Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines, and silver hooks.

There will the river whispering run
Warm'd by thy eyes, more than the sun;
And there the 'enamour'd fish will stay,
Begging themselves they may betray.

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