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John Donne (Джон Донн)


The Soule


Thee, eye of heaven, this great soule envies not;
By thy male force is all wee have begot;
In the first East thou now begins to shine;
Suck'st early balme, and island spices there;
And wilt anon, in thy loose-rein'd careere
At Tagus, Po, Sene, Thames, and Danon dine,
And see at night thy Westerne land of Myne :
Yet hast thou not more nations seene than shee,
That before thee one day beganne to bee,
And, thy fraill light being quenched, shall long, long outlive thee.



John Donne's other poems:
  1. Holy Sonnet 12. Why are we by all creatures waited on?
  2. Holy Sonnet 15. Wilt thou love God as he thee? then digest
  3. Holy Sonnet 9. If poisonous minerals, and if that tree
  4. Holy Sonnet 6. This is my play's last scene; here heavens appoint
  5. Holy Sonnet 18. Show me, dear Christ, thy spouse so bright and clear


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Английская поэзия