John Donne

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

The Computation - Poem by John Donne

For the first twenty years since yesterday
I scarce believed thou couldst be gone away;
For forty more I fed on favors past,
And forty on hopes that thou wouldst they might last.
Tears drowned one hundred, and sighs blew out two,
A thousand, I did neither think nor do,
Or not divide, all being one thought of you,
Or in a thousand more forgot that too.
Yet call not this long life, but think that I
Am, by being dead, immortal. Can ghosts die?


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Read poems about / on: life, believe, hope



Poem Submitted: Monday, May 14, 2001

Poem Edited: Monday, May 14, 2001


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