John Donne (1572-1631) was a sensual poet, an ordained minister and an attorney. Go figure. What I love most about Donne is his clever use of the conceit, an elaborate metaphor using imagery which extends the length of his poems. His subjects are often love, death and religion, which he writes of with wit, paradox and pun.
Donne is known as perhaps the greatest metaphysical poet, though the term was not used to describe his work until after his death. He fell out of favor for many years until interest in his work was revived by T.S. Elliot. Donne’s satirical wit is evident in this verse from The Bait mimicking that made famous by Christopher Marlowe, his contemporary.
Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines, and silver hooks.
Here is one of my favorites:
The Flea
Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deny’st me is:
Me it sucked first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea, our two bloods mingled be;
Confess it, this cannot be said
A sin, or shame, or loss of maidenhead,
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pampered swells with one blood made of two,
And this, alas, is more than we would do.
Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, nay 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’are met,
And cloistered in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to this, self murderer added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.
Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail, in blood of innocence?
In what could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it sucked 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 you yield’st to me,
Will waste, as this flea’s death took life from thee.
More of Donne here.
Note on Painting: The above portrait of John Donne is a highly regarded painting by a unknown artist. It was in the news earlier this year when the family that had owned it since the poet’s death in 1631 had to offer it for sale to pay inheritance taxes in England. Fearing the portrait could leave the country, London’s National Portrait Gallery made a public appeal which raised enough funds for the Gallery to purchase it in August.
