No Man Is An Island

——John Donn

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. https://t.cn/z8yDTZ3

To —[‘Time’s sea’]
Time’s sea hath been five years at its slow ebb,
Long hours have to and fro let creep the sand ,
Since I was tangled in thy beauty’s web,
And snared by the ungloving of thine hand .

And yet I never look on midnight sky,
But I behold thine eyes’ well-memoried light.
I cannot look upon the rose’s dye,
But to thy cheek my soul doth take its flight.

I cannot look on any budding flower,
But my fond ear,in fancy at thy lips
And hearkening for a love-sound,doth devour
Its sweets in the wrong sense.Thou dost eclipse

Every delight with sweet remembering,
And grief unto my darling joys dost bring.

——John Keats

中二青年，Mr 约翰·邓恩
给我的感觉就是，我爱你怎么可能与

你没关系，不爱我，这就是你的不对

The Flea
Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is;
Me it sucked first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be;
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, or shame, or loss of maidenhead,
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pampered swells with one blood made of two,
And this, alas, is more than we would do.
Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, nay more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed and marriage temple is;
Though parents grudge, and you, we are met,
And cloisered in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me
Let not to that, self-murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.
Cruel and sudden, has thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it sucked from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st, and say'st that thou
Find'st not thy self nor me the weaker now;
'Tis true; then learn how false fears be:
Just so much honor, when thou yield'st to me,
Will waste, as this flea's death look life from thee.