John Donne

  • Jöjj, hölgyem, jöjj és vetkőzz le velem,
    vágy kínoz, mikor nem szeretkezem.
    S mint harcos, ha ellenségre talál:
    lándzsám megfájdul, mert nem döf, csak áll.
    Öved délkörét oldozd meg hamar:
    minden tájnál szebb földövet takar.
    Pruszlidat vesd le, olyan...

  • Before I sigh my last gasp, let me breathe,
    Great Love, some legacies: here I bequeathe
    Mine eyes to Argus, if mine eyes can see,
    If they be blind, then, Love, I give them thee;
    My tongue to Fame, to embassadors my ears;
          To women, or the sea, my...

  • 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 whisp'ring run
    Warm'd by thy eyes, more than the sun ;
    And there th' enamour'd fish will...

  • Sweetest love, I do not go,
    For weariness of thee,
    Nor in hope the world can show
    A fitter love for me;
    But since that I
    Must die at last, 'tis best
    To use myself in jest
    Thus by feign'd deaths to die.

    Yesternight the sun went hence,
    And yet is...

  • As virtuous men pass mildly away,
    And whisper to their souls to go,
    Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
    "The breath goes now," and some say, "No,"

    So let us melt, and make no noise,
    No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;
    'Twere profanation of our joys...

  • Batter my heart, three person'd God; for, you
    As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
    That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
    Your force, to break, blow, burn and make me new.
    I, like an usurpt town, to another due,
    Labour to admit you, but Oh, to...

  • Where, like a pillow on a bed,
    A pregnant bank swell'd up, to rest
    The violet's reclining head,
    Sat we two, one another's best.

    Our hands were firmly cemented
    By a fast balm, which thence did spring;
    Our eye-beams twisted, and did thread
    Our eyes...

  • Busy old fool, unruly Sun,
    Why dost thou thus,
    Through windows, and through curtains, call on us?
    Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?
    Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
    Late school-boys and sour prentices,
    Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,...