No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace,
As I have seen in one autumnal face. – John Donne
Take me to you, imprison me, for I, except you enthrall me, never shall be free, nor ever chaste, except you ravish me. – John Donne

No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace,
As I have seen in one autumnal face. – John Donne
Take me to you, imprison me, for I, except you enthrall me, never shall be free, nor ever chaste, except you ravish me. – John Donne
God employs several translators some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice. – John Donne
When I died last, and, Dear, I die as often as from thee I go though it be but an hour ago and lovers hours be full eternity. – John Donne