John Donne column

Discussion in 'Poetry Corner' started by BoomShackerLacker, Aug 18, 2012.

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  1. [h=1]To His Mistress Going to Bed[/h]
    Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,

    Until I labour, I in labour lie.
    The foe oft-times having the foe in sight,
    Is tir’d with standing though he never fight.
    Off with that girdle, like heaven’s Zone glistering,
    But a far fairer world encompassing.
    Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear,
    That th’eyes of busy fools may be stopped there.
    Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime,
    Tells me from you, that now it is bed time.
    Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
    That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
    Your gown going off, such beauteous state reveals,
    As when from flowery meads th’hill’s shadow steals.
    Off with that wiry Coronet and shew
    The hairy Diadem which on you doth grow:
    Now off with those shoes, and then safely tread
    In this love’s hallow’d temple, this soft bed.
    In such white robes, heaven’s Angels used to be
    Received by men; Thou Angel bringst with thee
    A heaven like Mahomet’s Paradise; and though
    Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know,
    By this these Angels from an evil sprite,
    Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.
    Licence my roving hands, and let them go,
    Before, behind, between, above, below.
    O my America! my new-found-land,
    My kingdom, safeliest when with one man mann’d,
    My Mine of precious stones, My Empirie,
    How blest am I in this discovering thee!
    To enter in these bonds, is to be free;
    Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be.
    Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee,
    As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth’d must be,
    To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use
    Are like Atlanta’s balls, cast in men’s views,
    That when a fool’s eye lighteth on a Gem,
    His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them.
    Like pictures, or like books’ gay coverings made
    For lay-men, are all women thus array’d;
    Themselves are mystic books, which only we
    (Whom their imputed grace will dignify)
    Must see reveal’d. Then since that I may know;
    As liberally, as to a Midwife, shew
    Thy self: cast all, yea, this white linen hence,
    There is no penance due to innocence.
    To teach thee, I am naked first; why then
    What needst thou have more covering than a man.
     
    • Like Like x 1
  2. Google is your friend....!
     
  3. And him a minister of the church!!
     
  4. There's hope yet...

    Donne more famously known for:

    No man is an island,
    Entire of itself.
    Each is a piece of the continent,
    A part of the main.
    If a clod be washed away by the sea,
    Europe is the less.
    As well as if a promontory were.
    As well as if a manor of thine own
    Or of thine friend's were.
    Each man's death diminishes me,
    For I am involved in mankind.
    Therefore, send not to know
    For whom the bell tolls,
    It tolls for thee.
     
  5. skid2

    skid2 LE Book Reviewer

    Rave on.
     
    • Like Like x 1
  6. Philistine :wink:
     
  7. skid2

    skid2 LE Book Reviewer

    Guilty
     
  8. [​IMG]

    Rodney2q
     
  9. You holy fool...
     
  10. John Donne eats peas with honey,
    he's done it all his life,
    it makes the peas taste funny
    but it keeps them on the knife!
     
  11. I always liked The Message:

    Send home my long stray’d eyes to me,
    Which O too long have dwelt on thee,
    Yet since there they have learn’d such ill,
    Such forc’d fashions,
    And false passions,
    That they be
    Made by thee
    Fit for no good sight, keep them still.

    Send home my worthless heart again,
    Which no unworthy thought could stain,
    Which if’t be taught by thine
    To make jestings
    Of protestings,
    And cross both
    Word and oath,
    Keep it, for then ’tis none of mine.

    Yet send me back my heart and eyes,
    That I may know, and see thy lies,
    And may laugh and joy, when thou
    Art in anguish
    And dost languish
    For some one
    That will non,
    Or prove as false as thou art now.

    Not that he was bitter, or anything.