Sonnet Variation: John Donne's "Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay?"
Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay
into the crumbling ruin of waste and haste?
As hermit seems to wither by his fast,
his softness somehow lost to yesterday,
my works seem all to ruin in their way
and rust like nails upon the waters cast.
Shall child of God be doomed to loss and waste?
But all these years and days serve but to weigh
The value of the coin received from thee.
Though fools may whine and then complain again,
let such disgrace be far away from me;
in aging days may I my hopes sustain.
-- And later, changed and banked by God's own art,
I'll wear with grace a tried and tested heart.
