Holy Sonnet I

Thou hast made me, And shall thy worke decay?

Repaire me now, for now mine end doth haste,

I runne to death, and death meets me as fast,

And all my pleasures are like yesterday;

I dare not move my dimme eyes any way,

Despaire behind, and death before doth cast

Such terrour, and my feeble flesh doth waste

By sinne in it, which it t’wards hell doth weigh;

Onely thou art above, and when towards thee

By thy leave I can looke, I rise againe;

Bout our old subtle foe so tempteth me,

That not one houre my selfe I can sustain;

Thy Grace may wing me to prevent his art,

And thou like Adamant draw mine iron heart.

John Donne, Holy Sonnet I.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s