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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419788" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To The Praise Of The Dead And The Anatomy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">VVEll dy'de the World, that we might liue to see <br>This World of wit, in his Anatomee: <br>No euill wants his good: so wilder heyres; <br>Bedew their Fathers Toombs, with forced teares, <br>Whose state requites their losse: whiles thus we gaine <br>Well may we walke in black[e], but not complaine. <br>Yet how can I consent the world is dead <br>While this Muse liues? which in his spirits stead <br>Seemes to informe a world: and bids it bee, <br>In spight of losse, or fraile mortalitee? <br>And thou the subiect of this wel-borne thought, <br>Thrise noble Maid; couldst not haue found nor sought <br>A fitter time to yeeld to thy sad Fate, <br>Then whiles this spirit liues; that can relate <br>Thy worth so well to our last Nephews Eyne, <br>That they shall wonder both at his, and thine: <br>Admired match! where striues in mutuall grace <br>The cunning Pencill, and the comely face: <br>A taske, which thy faire goodnesse made too much <br>For the bold pride of vulgar pens to tuch; <br>Enough is vs to praise them that praise thee, <br>And say that but enough those prayses bee, <br>Which had'st thou liu'd, had hid their fearefull head <br>From th'angry checkings of thy modestred: <br>Death bars reward & shame: when enuy's gone, <br>And gaine; 'tis safe to giue the dead their owne. <br>As then the wise Egyptians wont to lay <br>More on their Tombes, then houses: these of clay, <br>But those of brasse, or marbele were; so wee <br>Giue more vnto thy Ghost, then vnto thee. <br>Yet what wee giue to thee, thou gauest to vs, <br>And maiest but thanke thy selfe, for being thus: <br>Yet what thou gau'st, and wert, O happy maid, <br>Thy grace profest all due, were 'tis repayd. <br>So these high songs that to thee suited bine, <br>Serue but to sound thy makers praise, in thine, <br>Which thy deare soule as sweetly sings to him <br>Amid the Quire of Saints and Seraphim, <br>As any Angels tongue can sing of thee; <br>The subiects differ, then the skill agree: <br>For as by infant-yeares men iudge of age, <br>Thy early loue, thy vertues, did presage <br>What hie part thou bear'st in those best songs <br>Whereto no burden, nor no end belongs. <br>Sing on thou Virgin soule, whose losseful gaine <br>Thy loue-sicke Parents haue bewail'd in vaine; <br>Neuer may thy Name be in our songs forgot. <br>Till we shall sing thy ditty, and thy note.</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=419788" data-title="To The Praise Of The Dead And The Anatomy de John Donne" data-description="VVEll dy'de the World, that we might liue to see 
This World of wit, in his Anatomee: 
No euill wants his good: so wilder heyres; 
Bedew their Fathers Toombs, with forced teares, 
Whose state requites their losse: whiles thus we gaine 
Well may we..."></div>
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