Morning  Lament

In a moment of pique the good Doctor Donne
set himself firmly to admonish the sun
by chiding at first its voyeur's intrusion;
but could it have been a sign of confusion
when his  inverted logic took a different turn
and welcomed it back with much less concern?

But leave him to play with his own rags of  time:
his hours, months and days in transmogrified rhyme,
because whether it be daylight, whether it be dark,
spending time in the bedroom, renewing the spark
of a love's lost burning and a life soon sped
neither thought is welcome in an aging head.

So it's quite a relief when it enters the room
to dispel for the nonce an old man's gloom.