Poems of John Donne, Volume 2

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A.H. Bullen, 1896

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Page 304 - Christ was the word that spake it, He took the bread and brake it, And what that word did make it, That I believe and take it.
Page 111 - And new philosophy calls all in doubt ; The element of fire is quite put out ; The sun is lost, and th' earth, and no man's wit Can well direct him where to look for it. And freely men confess that this world's spent, When in the planets, and the firmament 210 They seek so many new ; they see that this Is crumbled out again to his atomies. 'Tis all in pieces, all coherence gone, All just supply, and all relation.
Page 188 - May all be bad ; doubt wisely ; in strange way To stand inquiring right, is not to stray ; To sleepe, or runne wrong, is.
Page 237 - Of my anniversaries, the fault that I acknowledge in myself, is to have descended to print anything in verse, which, though it have excuse in our times, by men who profess and practise much gravity ; yet I confess I wonder how I declined to it, and do not pardon myself.
Page 274 - No broken vows dwell here, nor pale-faced fears ; Then here I'll sit, and sigh my hot love's folly, And learn to affect a holy melancholy : And if contentment be a stranger then, I'll ne'er look for it but in heaven again.
Page 110 - ... ancients seemed to prophesy, Wh.Ts they called virtues by the name of she ; - She, in whom virtue was so much refined, ' That for allay unto so pure a mind She took the weaker sex ; she that could drive The poisonous tincture, and the stain of Eve...
Page 135 - Her pure and eloquent blood Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought, That one might almost say her body thought.
Page 122 - For her death wounded it. The world contains Princes for arms and counsellors for brains, Lawyers for tongues, divines for hearts, and more, The rich for stomachs, and for backs the poor; The officers for hands, merchants for feet, By which remote and distant countries meet: But those fine spirits, which do tune and set This organ, are those pieces which beget Wonder and love ; and these were she : and she Being spent, the world must needs decrepit be.
Page 306 - MY HEART. THOU sent'st to me a heart was sound, I took it to be thine ; But when I saw it had a wound, I knew that heart was mine.
Page 97 - I can do in verse; you know my uttermost when it was best, and even then I did best when I had least truth for my subjects. In this present case there is so much truth as it defeats all poetry.

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