Sometimes, John Donne, you come to mind.
You had conceit enough to live in both the worlds.
Lover and priest, you were never blind
to what the sparkle of imagination unfolds.
Sometimes, John Donne, you come to mind.
For wit undoes the categorical
and fashions a language made to disconcert.
And when a pun grows metaphysical,
God and man express themselves in concert.
Sometimes, John Donne, you come to mind.