When Giving Thanks is Hard

John Donne

Holy Sonnet: XIV

Batter my heart, three-personed God; for you

as yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend.

That I may rise and stand, o’erthrow me and bend

your force to break, blow, burn and make me new.

I, like an usurped town, to another due,

labor to admit you, but, oh, to no end;

reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,

but is captived and proves weak or untrue.

Yet dearly I love you and would be loved fain,

but am betrothed unto your enemy:

divorce me, untie or break that knot again,

take me to you, imprison me, for I,

except you enthrall me, never shall be free,

nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.