John Donne - Delphi Poets Series
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JOHN DONNE
(1572-1631)
Contents
The Poetry Collections
SONGS AND SONNETS
ELEGIES
DIVINE POEMS
HOLY SONNETS
OTHER DIVINE POEMS
SATIRES
MARRIAGE SONGS
VERSE LETTERS
EPICEDES AND OBSEQUIES
EPIGRAMS
INFINITATI SACRUM
THE ANNIVERSARIES
LATIN POEMS
DOUBTFUL VERSES
The Poems
LIST OF POEMS IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER
LIST OF POEMS IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER
The Prose
BIATHANATOS
PSEUDO-MARTYR
IGNATIUS HIS CONCLAVE
DEVOTIONS UPON EMERGENT OCCASIONS
PARADOXES
PROBLEMS
The Letters
LIST OF LETTERS
The Biographies
THE LIFE OF DR. JOHN DONNE by Izaak Walton
JOHN DONNE by Arthur Symons
JOHN DONNE by Robert Lynd
© Delphi Classics 2012
Version 1
JOHN DONNE
By Delphi Classics, 2012
NOTE
When reading poetry on an eReader, it is advisable to use a small font size, which will allow the lines of poetry to display correctly.
The Poetry Collections
Bread Street, London — Donne’s birthplace
London in Donne’s time
SONGS AND SONNETS
John Donne is now generally considered the most prominent member of what would later be termed the Metaphysical poets - a phrase coined in 1781 by the critic Dr Johnson. Previously the poet John Dryden had written of Donne in 1693 as affecting “the metaphysics, not only in his satires, but in his amorous verses, where nature only should reign; and perplexes the minds of the fair sex with nice speculations of philosophy, when he should engage their hearts, and entertain them with the softnesses of love.” In response to this comment, Dr Johnson wrote in his Life of Cowley that at the beginning of the seventeenth century there “appeared a race of writers that may be termed the metaphysical poets”. The phrase caught on and critics have ever since referred to Donne and fellow poets such as Andrew Marvell and George Herbert in this way.
Metaphysical poetry is concerned with abstract thought, imaginative conceits or philosophical subjects treated with levity and irony. Therefore, the metaphysical style of poetry is characterised by wit and intangible conceits. These poems often provide far-fetched or unusual similes or metaphors, which are then extended in an epigram format.
Donne published very little poetry in his lifetime, securing more fame as a preacher of sermons than a writer of verses. His earliest poems demonstrate an understanding of English society, which he often attacks with harsh criticism. It wasn’t until two years after Donne’s death in 1633, when this famous collection of his songs and sonnets was first published. Many of the poems are from his early days as a writer and the collection is particularly memorable for the erotic poems it contains. In these works Donne has been praised for his use of unconventional metaphors, with the most famous being employed to great comedic effect in The Flea. In the poem, as a flea bites two lovers one after another, the poet compares the act to sex, arguing that they may as well now regard themselves as physical lovers. However, these poems also contain some of the most beautiful poetry from the seventeenth century, with works such as Break of Day and The Sun Rising, exemplifying Donne’s ability to achieve a lyrical beauty and strong atmosphere of passionate love in his poetry.
Donne as a young man
CONTENTS
THE FLEA.
THE GOOD-MORROW.
GO AND CATCH A FALLING STAR.
WOMAN’S CONSTANCY.
THE UNDERTAKING.
THE SUN RISING.
THE INDIFFERENT.
LOVE’S USURY.
THE CANONIZATION.
THE TRIPLE FOOL.
LOVERS’ INFINITENESS.
SWEETEST LOVE, I DO NOT GO
THE LEGACY.
A FEVER.
AIR AND ANGELS.
BREAK OF DAY.
THE ANNIVERSARY.
TWICKENHAM GARDEN.
VALEDICTION TO HIS BOOK.
COMMUNITY.
LOVE’S GROWTH.
LOVE’S EXCHANGE.
CONFINED LOVE.
THE DREAM.
A VALEDICTION OF WEEPING.
LOVE’S ALCHEMY.
THE CURSE.
THE MESSAGE.
A NOCTURNAL UPON ST. LUCY’S DAY, BEING THE SHORTEST DAY.
WITCHCRAFT BY A PICTURE.
THE BAIT.
THE APPARITION.
THE BROKEN HEART.
A VALEDICTION FORBIDDING MOURNING.
THE ECSTACY.
LOVE’S DEITY.
LOVE’S DIET.
THE WILL.
THE FUNERAL.
THE BLOSSOM.
THE PRIMROSE
THE RELIC.
THE DAMP.
THE DISSOLUTION.
A JET RING SENT.
NEGATIVE LOVE.
THE PROHIBITION.
THE EXPIRATION.
THE COMPUTATION.
THE PARADOX.
SOUL’S JOY, NOW I AM GONE.
FAREWELL TO LOVE.
A LECTURE UPON THE SHADOW.
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN SIR HENRY WOTTON AND MR. DONNE.
THE TOKEN.
SELF-LOVE.
THE FLEA.
MARK but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is;
It suck’d me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be.
Thou know’st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead;
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pamper’d swells with one blood made of two;
And this, alas! is more than we would do.
O stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, yea, more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is.
Though parents grudge, and you, we’re met,
And cloister’d in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that self-murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.
Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it suck’d from thee?
Yet thou triumph’st, and say’st that thou
Find’st not thyself nor me the weaker now.
‘Tis true; then learn how false fears be;
Just so much honour, when thou yield’st to me,
Will waste, as this flea’s death took life from thee.
THE GOOD-MORROW.
I WONDER by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved? were we not wean’d till then?
But suck’d on country pleasures, childishly?
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers’ den?
‘Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be;
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, ‘twas but a dream of thee.
And now good-morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear;
For love all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea-dis
coverers to new worlds have gone;
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown;
Let us possess one world; each hath one, and is one.
My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
Where can we find two better hemispheres
Without sharp north, without declining west?
Whatever dies, was not mix’d equally;
If our two loves be one, or thou and I
Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die.
GO AND CATCH A FALLING STAR.
GO and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
Or who cleft the devil’s foot,
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy’s stinging,
And find
What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind.
If thou be’st born to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
Till age snow white hairs on thee,
Thou, when thou return’st, wilt tell me,
All strange wonders that befell thee,
And swear,
No where
Lives a woman true and fair.
If thou find’st one, let me know,
Such a pilgrimage were sweet;
Yet do not, I would not go,
Though at next door we might meet,
Though she were true, when you met her,
And last, till you write your letter,
Yet she
Will be
False, ere I come, to two, or three.
WOMAN’S CONSTANCY.
NOW thou hast loved me one whole day,
To-morrow when thou leavest, what wilt thou say?
Wilt thou then antedate some new-made vow?
Or say that now
We are not just those persons which we were?
Or that oaths made in reverential fear
Of Love, and his wrath, any may forswear?
Or, as true deaths true marriages untie,
So lovers’ contracts, images of those,
Bind but till sleep, death’s image, them unloose?
Or, your own end to justify,
For having purposed change and falsehood, you
Can have no way but falsehood to be true?
Vain lunatic, against these ‘scapes I could
Dispute, and conquer, if I would;
Which I abstain to do,
For by to-morrow I may think so too.
THE UNDERTAKING.
I HAVE done one braver thing
Than all the Worthies did;
And yet a braver thence doth spring,
Which is, to keep that hid.
It were but madness now to impart
The skill of specular stone,
When he, which can have learn’d the art
To cut it, can find none.
So, if I now should utter this,
Others — because no more
Such stuff to work upon, there is —
Would love but as before.
But he who loveliness within
Hath found, all outward loathes,
For he who color loves, and skin,
Loves but their oldest clothes.
If, as I have, you also do
Virtue in woman see,
And dare love that, and say so too,
And forget the He and She;
And if this love, though placèd so,
From profane men you hide,
Which will no faith on this bestow,
Or, if they do, deride;
Then you have done a braver thing
Than all the Worthies did;
And a braver thence will spring,
Which is, to keep that hid.
THE SUN RISING.
BUSY old fool, unruly Sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers’ seasons run?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school-boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices;
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
Thy beams so reverend, and strong
Why shouldst thou think?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long.
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and to-morrow late tell me,
Whether both th’ Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou left’st them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw’st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, “All here in one bed lay.”
She’s all states, and all princes I;
Nothing else is;
Princes do but play us; compared to this,
All honour’s mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world’s contracted thus;
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that’s done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere.
THE INDIFFERENT.
I CAN love both fair and brown;
Her whom abundance melts, and her whom want betrays;
Her who loves loneness best, and her who masks and plays;
Her whom the country form’d, and whom the town;
Her who believes, and her who tries;
Her who still weeps with spongy eyes,
And her who is dry cork, and never cries.
I can love her, and her, and you, and you;
I can love any, so she be not true.
Will no other vice content you?
Will it not serve your turn to do as did your mothers?
Or have you all old vices spent, and now would find out others?
Or doth a fear that men are true torment you?
O we are not, be not you so;
Let me — and do you — twenty know;
Rob me, but bind me not, and let me go.
Must I, who came to travel thorough you,
Grow your fix’d subject, because you are true?
Venus heard me sigh this song;
And by love’s sweetest part, variety, she swore,
She heard not this till now; and that it should be so no more.
She went, examined, and return’d ere long,
And said, “Alas! some two or three
Poor heretics in love there be,
Which think to stablish dangerous constancy.
But I have told them, ‘Since you will be true,
You shall be true to them who’re false to you.’ “
LOVE’S USURY.
FOR every hour that thou wilt spare me now,
I will allow,
Usurious god of love, twenty to thee,
When with my brown my gray hairs equal be.
Till then, Love, let my body range, and let
Me travel, sojourn, snatch, plot, have, forget,
Resume my last year’s relict; think that yet
We’d never met.
Let me think any rival’s letter mine,
And at next nine
Keep midnight’s promise; mistake by the way
The maid, and tell the lady of that delay;
Only let me love none; no, not the sport
From country grass to confitures of court,
Or city’s quelque-choses; let not report
My mind transport.
This bargain’s good; if when I’m old, I be
Inflamed by thee,
&nb
sp; If thine own honour, or my shame and pain,
Thou covet most, at that age thou shalt gain.
Do thy will then; then subject and degree
And fruit of love, Love, I submit to thee.
Spare me till then; I’ll bear it, though she be
One that love me.
THE CANONIZATION.
FOR God’s sake hold your tongue, and let me love;
Or chide my palsy, or my gout;
My five gray hairs, or ruin’d fortune flout;
With wealth your state, your mind with arts improve;
Take you a course, get you a place,
Observe his Honour, or his Grace;
Or the king’s real, or his stamp’d face
Contemplate; what you will, approve,
So you will let me love.
Alas! alas! who’s injured by my love?
What merchant’s ships have my sighs drown’d?
Who says my tears have overflow’d his ground?
When did my colds a forward spring remove?
When did the heats which my veins fill
Add one more to the plaguy bill?
Soldiers find wars, and lawyers find out still
Litigious men, which quarrels move,
Though she and I do love.
Call’s what you will, we are made such by love;
Call her one, me another fly,
We’re tapers too, and at our own cost die,
And we in us find th’ eagle and the dove.
The phoenix riddle hath more wit
By us; we two being one, are it;
So, to one neutral thing both sexes fit.
We die and rise the same, and prove
Mysterious by this love.
We can die by it, if not live by love,
And if unfit for tomb or hearse
Our legend be, it will be fit for verse;
And if no piece of chronicle we prove,
We’ll build in sonnets pretty rooms;
As well a well-wrought urn becomes
The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs,
And by these hymns, all shall approve
Us canonized for love;
And thus invoke us, “You, whom reverend love
Made one another’s hermitage;
You, to whom love was peace, that now is rage;
Who did the whole world’s soul contract, and drove
Into the glasses of your eyes;
So made such mirrors, and such spies,
That they did all to you epitomize —
Countries, towns, courts beg from above
A pattern of your love.”