TIS the year's midnight, and it is the day's, Lucy's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks ; The sun is spent, and now his flasks Send forth light … - John Donne

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TIS the year's midnight, and it is the day's,
Lucy's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks ;
The sun is spent, and now his flasks
Send forth light squibs, no constant rays ;
The world's whole sap is sunk ;
The general balm th' hydroptic earth hath drunk,
Whither, as to the bed's-feet, life is shrunk,
Dead and interr'd ; yet all these seem to laugh,
Compared with me, who am their epitaph.

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About John Donne

John Donne (22 January 1572 – 31 March 1631) was a Jacobean metaphysical poet. His works include sonnets, love poetry, religious poems, Latin translations, epigrams, elegies, songs, and sermons.

Biography information from Wikiquote

Also Known As

Alternative Names: Very Rev. John Donne
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Originators like John Donne:
William Shakespeare Lord Byron Alfred Tennyson Elizabeth Barrett Browning Algernon Charles Swinburne

Additional quotes by John Donne

At one blood labors to beget,
Spirits as like as it can,
Because such figures need to knit,
that subtle knot which makes us man.
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