Explore "To Mr. Thomas Woodward: all Hail, Sweet Poet, more Full of more Strong Fire" by John Donne on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
All hail, sweet poet, more full of more strong fire, / Than hath or shall enkindle my dull spirit; / I loved what nature gave thee, but thy merit / Of wit and art I love not, but admire. / Who have before or shall write after thee, / Their works, though toughly laboured, will be / Like infancy or age to man's firm stay, / Or early and late twilights to midday.
Men say, and truly, that they better be / Which be envied than pitied; therefore I, / Because I wish thee best, do thee envy; / O, wouldst thou, by like reason, pity me. / But care not for me; I, that ever was / In nature's, and in fortune's gifts, alas / -But for thy grace, got in the Muses' school- / A monster and a beggar, am a fool.