THOU, whose diviner soul hath caused thee now
To put thy hand unto the holy plough,
Making lay-scornings of the ministry
Not an impediment, but victory ;
What bring’st thou home with thee ? how is thy mind
Affected since the vintage ? Dost thou find
New thoughts and stirrings in thee ? and, as steel
Touch’d with a loadstone, dost new motions feel ?
Or, as a ship after much pain and care
For iron and cloth brings home rich Indian ware,
Hast thou thus traffick’d, but with far more gain
Of noble goods, and with less time and pain ?
Thou art the same materials, as before,
Only the stamp is chang
(John Donne)
More Poetry from John Donne:
- Metempsycosis (John Donne Poems)
- The Progres Of The Soule (John Donne Poems)
- The Lamentations Of Jeremy, For The Most Part According To Tremellus (John Donne Poems)
- An Anatomy Of The World... (John Donne Poems)
- A Litany (John Donne Poems)
- Eclogue (John Donne Poems)