Read "La Corona" by John Donne online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
Deign at my hands this crown of prayer and praise, / Weaved in my lone devout melancholy, / Thou which of good hast, yea, art treasury, / All changing unchanged Ancient of days. / But do not with a vile crown of frail bays / Reward my Muse's white sincerity; / But what Thy thorny crown gain'd, that give me, / A crown of glory, which doth flower always. / The ends crown our works, but Thou crown'st our ends, / For at our ends begins our endless rest. / The first last end, now zealously possess'd, / With a strong sober thirst my soul attends. / 'Tis time that heart and voice be lifted high; / Salvation to all that will is nigh.