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A Castaway to John Donne

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If no man is an island, aye! John Donne,
  Emperor and beggar, lout and sage;
Yet even so, you’d grant we live upon one,
  Most solitary shipwrecks in old age.

A piece of each lone vessel sunk from reach,
  Proud armadas part, horizons shrink,
Their battered crews washed up upon a beach
   As castaways: you knew all this, I think.

‘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.’  — John Donne, ‘Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions’ (1624)