Poem by John Donne

The Soule

Thee, eye of heaven, this great soule envies not;
By thy male force is all wee have begot;
In the first East thou now begins to shine;
Suck'st early balme, and island spices there;
And wilt anon, in thy loose-rein'd careere
At Tagus, Po, Sene, Thames, and Danon dine,
And see at night thy Westerne land of Myne :
Yet hast thou not more nations seene than shee,
That before thee one day beganne to bee,
And, thy fraill light being quenched, shall long, long outlive thee.

1. Holy Sonnet 8. If faithful souls be alike glorified
2. Holy Sonnet 12. Why are we by all creatures waited on?
3. Holy Sonnet 5. I am a little world made cunningly
4. Holy Sonnet 9. If poisonous minerals, and if that tree
5. Holy Sonnet 13. What if this present were the world's last night?

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