
FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS by John Donne
No man is an island entirely of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If the sea washes away a clod,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friends were.
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in humanity.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.



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