Elegy V: His Picture
by Dr John DonneHere take my picture; though I bid farewell Thine, in my heart, where my soul dwells, shall dwell. ’Tis like me now, but I dead, ’twill be more When we are shadows both, than 'twas before. When weather-beaten I come back, my hand Perhaps with rude oars torn, or sun beams tann’d, My face and breast of haircloth, and my head With care’s rash sudden storms being o’erspread, My body’a sack of bones, broken within, And powder’s blue stains scatter’d on my skin; If rival fools tax thee to’have lov’d a man So foul and coarse as, oh, I may seem then, This shall say what I was, and thou shalt say, “Do his hurts reach me? doth my worth decay? Or do they reach his judging mind, that he Should now love less, what he did love to see? That which in him was fair and delicate, Was but the milk which in love's childish state Did nurse it; who now is grown strong enough To feed on that, which to disus’d tastes seems tough.”
Here take my picture
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Pea Brush
Pea Brush by Robert Frost I walked down alone Sunday after church To the place where John has been cutting trees To see for myself about the…
-
Two poems by e.e.cummings
Summer Silence Eruptive lightnings flutter to and fro Above the heights of immemorial hills; Thirst-stricken air, dumb-throated, in its woe Limply…
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The Definition of Love
The Definition of Love by Andrew Marvell My Love is of a birth as rare As ’tis for object strange and high: It was begotten by despair Upon…