#john donne

[apocryphics]

John Donne

[nobeerreviews]

No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.

-- John Donne

[peppermintquartz]

Alas, alas, who’s injured by my love?

~ The Canonization, John Donne

[uwmspeccoll]

Wood Engraving Wednesday

Here are some wood-engraved illustrations by Hungarian designer Imre Reiner (1900–1987) for the 1969 Limited Editions Club production of The Poems John Donne (John Donne, 1551-1631), printed by Brooke Crutchley at the Cambridge University Printing House, Cambridge, England, in an edition of 1500 copies signed by the artist.

Reiner is remembered primarily as a calligrapher and type designer, but he was also a graphic designer, illustrator, engraver, sculptor, and architect. An accomplished wood engraver, Reiner completed 33 engravings for this edition of John Donne's poems.

View more posts with wood engravings!

[amicus-noctis]

Be thine own palace, or the world's thy jail.” ― John Donne

Painting: "The Mendicant's Dream" by John Harris

[i-fucked-your-milkshake]

Ask not for whom the doom scrolls; it scrolls for thee.

[meganwhalenturner]

A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning

BY JOHN DONNE

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

To tell the laity our love.

Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears,

Men reckon what it did, and meant;

But trepidation of the spheres,

Though greater far, is innocent.

Dull sublunary lovers' love

(Whose soul is sense) cannot admit

Absence, because it doth remove

Those things which elemented it.

But we by a love so much refined,

That our selves know not what it is,

Inter-assured of the mind,

Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.

Our two souls therefore, which are one,

Though I must go, endure not yet

A breach, but an expansion,

Like gold to airy thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so

As stiff twin compasses are two;

Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show

To move, but doth, if the other do.

And though it in the center sit,

Yet when the other far doth roam,

It leans and hearkens after it,

And grows erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,

Like th' other foot, obliquely run;

Thy firmness makes my circle just,

And makes me end where I begun.

[nocnitsa]

John Donne Monument- St Paul's Cathedral, London.