John Donne - Delphi Poets Series (2012) - Plot & Excerpts
The fable is inverted, and far more A block afflicts, now, than a stork before. Storms chafe, and soon wear out themselves, or us; In calms, heaven laughs to see us languish thus. As steady as I can wish, that my thoughts were, Smooth as thy mistress' glass, or what shines there, The sea is now. And, as those Isles which we Seek, when we can move, our ships rooted be. As water did in storms, now pitch runs out As lead, when a fired church becomes one spout. And all our beauty, and our trim, decays, Like courts removing, or like ended plays. The fighting place now seamen's rags supply; And all the tackling is a frippery. No use of lanthorns; and in one place lay Feathers and dust, today and yesterday. Earth's hollownesses, which the world's lungs are, Have no more wind than the upper vault of air. We can nor lost friends, nor sought foes recover, But meteor-like, save that we move not, hover. Only the calenture together draws Dear friends, which meet dead in great fishes' jaws: And on the hatches as on altars lies Each one, his own priest, and own sacrifice.
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