Holy Sonnet 19

Oh, to vex me, contraries meet in one:
Inconstancy unnaturally hath begot
A constant habit; that when I would not
I change in vows, and in devotion.

As humorous is my contrition
As my profane love, and as soon forgot:
As riddingly distempered, cold and hot,
As praying, as mute, an infinite, as none.

I durst not view heaven yesterday; and today
In prayers, and flattering speeches I court God:
Tomorrow I quake with true fear of his rod.
So my devout fits come and go away

Like a fantastic ague: save that here
Those are my best days, when I shake with fear.

John Donne


Some days I feel like my life is this poem.
Some days I feel like it’s not.
I guess that means my life is this poem?

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