Donne, the delight of Phoebus, and each Muse, Who, to thy one, all other braines refuse; Whose every work, of thy most early wit, Came forth example, and remaines so, yet: Longer a knowing, than most wits do live; And which no affection praise enough can give! To it, thy language, letters, arts, best life, Which might with halfe mankind maintaine a strife; All which I meant to praise, and, yet, I would; But leave, because I cannot as I should! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ANONYMOUS by JOHN BANISTER TABB PHILOSOPHIES by MADELEINE AARON IMITATIONS OF SHAKESPEARE by JOHN ARMSTRONG |