I Thought of Donne

I thought of   Donne, and how the pride must war —

Of  Manley Hopkins, godlier by far,

His filial bemusement death and birth

Counting the spots of   God on this, God's earth.

And then, asleep, I dreamed of  Henry Ford

Wandering beardless down orchestral ways

Of  factories. A patriarchal lord,

Counting his beads of  praise.