One way to tell a poem’s by John Donne
Is noticing how all the lines don’t run
The same way on the page
The better to engage
His readers with effects that often stun.
Then with his metric versatility
While shocking us with far-out imagery
Comparing, say, the sun
To an old fool whose run
Across the morning sky brings misery
To lovers who have played the night away
And now resent the dawning of the day
And call the sun a fool
Whose busyness is cruel
For interrupting their luxuriant play.