By
John Donne.
And since this
life our nonage is,
And wee in Wardship to thine
Angels be,
Native in
heavens faire
Palaces,
Where we shall be but deninzen'd by thee,
As th'
earth conceiving by the
sunne,
Yields faire diversities
Yet never knowes which course of that light doth run,
So let mee study, that mine actions bee
Worthy their sight, though
blinde in how they see.