John Donne

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

John Donne Poems

41. The Annunciation And Passion 4/9/2010
42. Niobe 4/9/2010
43. La Corona 4/9/2010
44. Twickenham Garden 4/9/2010
45. Ressurection 4/9/2010
46. Elegy Xx (Alternate) Love's War 4/9/2010
47. The Blossom 4/9/2010
48. Fall Of A Wall 4/9/2010
49. Elegy:The End Of Funeral Elegies 4/9/2010
50. Disinherited 4/9/2010
51. Elegy Xiv: Julia 4/9/2010
52. Pyramus And Thisbe 4/9/2010
53. The Curse 4/9/2010
54. Love's Exchange 4/9/2010
55. The Anniversary 4/9/2010
56. The Will 4/9/2010
57. Antiquary 4/9/2010
58. Ascension 4/9/2010
59. An Obscure Writer 4/9/2010
60. Love's Diet 4/9/2010
61. Elegy Xvii: On His Mistress 4/9/2010
62. A Licentious Person 4/9/2010
63. To George Herbert, 4/9/2010
64. A Sheaf Of Snakes Used Heretofore To Be My Seal, The Crest Of Our Poor Family 4/9/2010
65. Elegy Xiii: His Parting From Her 4/9/2010
66. A Dialogue Between Sir Henry Wootton And Mr. Donne 4/9/2010
67. Love's Growth 4/9/2010
68. A Self Accuser 4/9/2010
69. Oh My Blacke Soule! Now Thou Art Summoned 4/9/2010
70. Holy Sonnet Viii: If Faithfull Soules 1/3/2003
71. Holy Sonnet Xii: Why Are We 1/3/2003
72. Holy Sonnets: Since She Whom I Lov'D Hath Paid Her Last Debt 5/14/2001
73. Holy Sonnet Xi: Spit In My Face You Jewes 1/3/2003
74. Holy Sonnet Xvi: Father 1/3/2003
75. Holy Sonnet Iii: O Might Those Sighes 1/3/2003
76. Holy Sonnet Xiii: What If This Present 1/3/2003
77. A Litany 4/9/2010
78. Holy Sonnet Vii: At The Round Earth's 1/3/2003
79. Annunciation 4/9/2010
80. Holy Sonnet Xii: Why Are We By All Creatures Waited On? 1/13/2003
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

Holy Sonnet X

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 pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

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