John Donne

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

Comments about John Donne

  • Veteran Poet - 1,382 Points Joseph Dela Sulh (losembe) (7/1/2015 8:39:00 PM)

    This poet is wonderful

    2 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Veteran Poet - 1,627 Points Panmelys Panmelys (12/3/2014 11:09:00 AM)

    Very interesting comments. Not enjoying poems on love seems a great sadness, I'd like to quote that Love is never wasted, even when it doesn't last, lines by Panmelys a new member, myself. John Donne is a great favorite and brings much joy to many, this is greatness. Like many others in this period, it's amazing how modern they seem, in spite of the gabs between epochs. Panmelys

  • Rookie - 0 Points Harvey Rabbit (8/30/2014 10:02:00 AM)

    The quote beginning Actually, if my business was legitimate, is not from John Donne, who was not a prostitute, did not have to deal with a corporate income tax, and would not likely have begun a sentence with actually. The real author appears to be Xaviera Hollander.

  • Rookie Punky Daly John (1/10/2013 4:45:00 PM)

    i read this John Donne Poems in Chapters only once with inner peace music

  • Rookie Grace Bunton (10/22/2012 9:54:00 PM)

    You forgot to mention that the first 2 stanzas of Go: and Catch a Falling Star were used in Diana Wynne Jones' book Howl's Moving Castle

  • Rookie Shahzeb Azhar (5/16/2012 6:14:00 AM)

    Hi i don't like poems or story acording to love

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

The Bait

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 whispering run
Warm'd by thy eyes, more than the sun;
And there the 'enamour'd fish will stay,
Begging themselves they may betray.

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