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I sing the progress of a deathless soul
by
John Donne
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I sing the progress of a deathless soul Whom Fate, with God made, but doth not control Plac'd in most shapes; all times before the law Yoked us, and when, and since, in this I sing And the great world to his aged evening; From infant morn, through manly noon I draw What the gold Chaldee, of silver Persian saw Greek bra**, or Roman iron, is in this one; A work t'outwear Seths pillars, brick and stone And (holy writs excepted) made to yield to none
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