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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419659" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Nocturnal Upon St. Lucy's Day, Being The Shortest Day</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's,<br> Lucy's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks;<br> The sun is spent, and now his flasks<br> Send forth light squibs, no constant rays;<br> The world's whole sap is sunk;<br> The general balm th' hydroptic earth hath drunk,<br> Whither, as to the bed's feet, life is shrunk,<br> Dead and interr'd; yet all these seem to laugh,<br> Compar'd with me, who am their epitaph.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Study me then, you who shall lovers be<br> At the next world, that is, at the next spring;<br> For I am every dead thing,<br> In whom Love wrought new alchemy.<br> For his art did express<br> A quintessence even from nothingness,<br> From dull privations, and lean emptiness;<br> He ruin'd me, and I am re-begot<br> Of absence, darkness, death: things which are not.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> All others, from all things, draw all that's good,<br> Life, soul, form, spirit, whence they being have;<br> I, by Love's limbec, am the grave<br> Of all that's nothing. Oft a flood<br> Have we two wept, and so<br> Drown'd the whole world, us two; oft did we grow<br> To be two chaoses, when we did show<br> Care to aught else; and often absences<br> Withdrew our souls, and made us carcasses.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But I am by her death (which word wrongs her)<br> Of the first nothing the elixir grown;<br> Were I a man, that I were one<br> I needs must know; I should prefer,<br> If I were any beast,<br> Some ends, some means; yea plants, yea stones detest,<br> And love; all, all some properties invest;<br> If I an ordinary nothing were,<br> As shadow, a light and body must be here.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But I am none; nor will my sun renew.<br> You lovers, for whose sake the lesser sun<br> At this time to the Goat is run<br> To fetch new lust, and give it you,<br> Enjoy your summer all;<br> Since she enjoys her long night's festival,<br> Let me prepare towards her, and let me call<br> This hour her vigil, and her eve, since this<br> Both the year's, and the day's deep midnight is.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Donne">John Donne</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419659" data-title="A Nocturnal Upon St. Lucy's Day, Being The Shortest Day de John Donne" data-description="'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..."></div>
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