Wednesday, November 4, 2015


                         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.