“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.”
from Meditation XVII by John Donne, 1572-1631
Strictly speaking, this excerpt from Meditation XVII is not poetry, but prose—but since John Donne’s chief fame is as a poet and we live in an age when prose may be presented as poetry, I decided the excerpt was legitimate Tuesday Poem fare. Enjoy!
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