John Donne anticipates the UK election results declared on St Lucy’s Day

‘Tis the year’s midnight, and it is the day’s,

Lucy’s, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks;

The sun is spent, and now his flasks

Send forth light squibs, no constant rays;

The world’s whole sap is sunk;

The general balm th’ hydroptic earth hath drunk,

Whither, as to the bed’s feet, life is shrunk,

Dead and interr’d; yet all these seem to laugh,

Compar’d with me, who am their epitaph.

13. December 2019 by rkh
Categories: Belles-Lettres, politics | Tags: , , , | Comments Off on John Donne anticipates the UK election results declared on St Lucy’s Day