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.