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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419781" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To Sir Henry Goodyere</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">WHO makes the last a pattern for next year,<br>Turns no new leaf, but still the same things reads ;<br>Seen things he sees again, heard things doth hear,<br>And makes his life but like a pair of beads.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A palace, when 'tis that which it should be,<br>Leaves growing, and stands such, or else decays ;<br>But he which dwells there is not so ; for he<br>Strives to surge upward, and his fortune raise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So had your body her morning, hath her noon,<br>And shall not better ; her next change is night ;<br>But her fair, larger guest, to whom sun and moon<br>Are sparks, and short-lived, claims another right.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The noble soul by age grows lustier ;<br>Her appetite and her digestion mend.<br>We must not starve, nor hope to pamper her<br>With women's milk, and pap, unto the end.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Provide you manlier diet. You have seen<br>All libraries, which are schools, camps, and courts ;<br>But ask your garners if you have not been<br>In harvest too indulgent to your sports.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Would you redeem it ? then yourself transplant<br>Awhile from hence. Perchance outlandish ground<br>Bears no more wit than ours ; but yet more scant<br>Are those diversions there, which here abound.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To be a stranger hath that benefit,<br>We can beginnings, but not habits choke.<br>Go—whither ? hence. You get, if you forget ;<br>New faults, till they prescribe to us, are smoke.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our soul, whose country's heaven, and God her Father,<br>Into this world, corruption's sink, is sent ;<br>Yet so much in her travel she doth gather,<br>That she returns home wiser than she went.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It pays you well, if it teach you to spare,<br>And make you ashamed to make your hawks' praise yours,<br>Which when herself she lessens in the air,<br>You then first say, that high enough she towers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">However, keep the lively taste you hold<br>Of God ; love Him as now, but fear Him more ;<br>And in your afternoons think what you told<br>And promised Him, at morning prayer before.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let falsehood like a discord anger you,<br>Else not be froward. But why do I touch<br>Things of which none is in your practice new ?<br>And fables, or fruit-trenchers teach as much.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But thus I make you keep your promise, sir,<br>Riding I had you, though you still stay'd there ;<br>And in these thoughts, although you never stir,<br>You came with me to Mitcham, and are here.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Donne">John Donne</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419781" data-title="To Sir Henry Goodyere de John Donne" data-description="WHO makes the last a pattern for next year,
Turns no new leaf, but still the same things reads ;
Seen things he sees again, heard things doth hear,
And makes his life but like a pair of beads.

A palace, when 'tis that which it should be,
Leaves g..."></div>
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