Why read the poetry of John Donne?

An essay concerning John Donne.

Poetry; the linguistic expression. Filled with images, rhyme, metaphor, meter, personifications, it can all become a little haphazard trying to decipher the poems of some poets. No other poet I have studied has made such poised perfection of the art as John Donne; his poetry tells the tale of his tragic life, his exploration of all the love can bear and his turmoil in bearing total loss. It is his life story which first captivated me to his work.

In his young life, he saw first hand the work of religious discrimination against the Roman Church and violence being set onto his family; which, in his blinding aspiration for success, drove him to conversion of the Anglican Church. Set on being a career man his life took a major revolution when he fell for his employer’s seventeen year old niece, Anne More. He was appointed chief secretary to the Lord Keeper of the Great Seal, Sir Thomas Egerton, and was established at Egerton’s London home His poetry from this stage in his life is a modicum snapshot of his poetic talent with ‘The Flea’.

The Flea, in its witty humor and logical argument boasts a finesse of his exuberance, whether in women or work, and is one of his most famous writes. It is a dark, intelligent poem which proposes the argument that his wife would not make love to him. In the flea, he sees intercourse as nothing sinful or anyway inhumane, if even the tiniest flea can sustain both the peoples blood inside itself, well…then a simple exchange of their own fluid is nothing to be ashamed or reprimanded for.

“Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is;
Me it sucked first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be
Thou know’st that this cannot be said
A sin, or shame, or loss of maidenhead,”
Convincingly, Donne uses this simple idea of blood exchange, and the easy image of this flea to show his mistress how natural intercourse is. It is as if the problem is nothing bigger than the flea itself. He, then knowing his mistress hallows the flea into this holy, benign creature that sustains the marriage and love of the two people;
“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;”
We are almost put into the mindset of his mistress, and find ourselves hypnotized and agreeing with him; however, the woman, trying to banish the argument kills the flea but Donne, being the man he is finds that as another excuse to uphold his argument.
“’Tis true; then learn how false, fears be:
Just so much honor, when thou yield’st to me,
Will waste, as this flea’s death took life from thee.”
As you can see, Donne can find himself out of any debate using his clever, and perfect use of the English language. This idea, of using words as puppet-strings is a prime example of the young, vigorous nature of the poet.

Later in life, as Donne matures we notice how so, and we can see his sexual relationship with his wife has eventually reached the depths of their emotions. An interesting idea, the taming of the lion, but he yet has to loose his charm as a writer and still uses the clever, undeniable argument of his language. In “A Valediction; Forbidden Mourning”, it is obvious that he must leave his wife to care for their many children and that he must travel Europe. The title itself nicely sums up the theme in the poem, that she is not permitted to mourn for his leave, as he will soon return and all will resume it’s intertwining perfection. As I would like to think, I assumed this poem would be an overly romantic gesture of his undying love for her, and would be a trophy for her to read and stir her heart while he was gone. Unluckily, the poem is bereft of any unnecessary gestures and in an original, if somewhat cruel perspective; he only writes to soothe the mind, again.

“So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move”
So quietly will he be gone, that she will not even notice his leave. As basic as the alchemists use of melting metals, an operating the anatomy of the world, so easily will be gone; without pain, and as easily shall he return. A conceit he will use again, the image of their souls parting; that their love reaches a spiritual level to the point of pure union. Though his use of conceit and other poetic device are clever in soothing his bereft wife, I feel he goes to far at one point.

“But we by a love so much refined,
That our selves know not what it is,
Inter-assured of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss”
Firstly, even the simple mention of eyes, lips and hands is only making the situation worse by acknowledging the topic, she will not even touch him for some time. His images of parting souls are all romantic enough, but the idea that they are that close that they will not miss the body must have been pure horror for his wife to hear; all she would wish on her lonesome would be exactly that which he says she will not miss at all. Though, maybe she did find comfort in his idea, if I were her I certainly wouldn’t.
The final three stanza’s are the most beautiful, proving and wholesome of the poem;
“If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two;
Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if the other do.

And though it in the center sit,
Yet when the other far doth roam,
It leans and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.”

The idea of them being two terminals of a compass, and that one cannot move without the others consent, and does not move without the others guide is truly a romantic gesture after all. No matter how far one foot goes, it is always firmly attached to the other, and no matter what kind of things it is doing out in the open, it will always return to the point where it began, and consequently return to the other. This image hums a potency so delicate and poignant that it would have, without a doubt in my mind, made his wife smile. She must allow her twin terminal to go and sketch out the circle, and hope that the time between beginning and end of this journey is short lived.
Also, the idea of the compass is mathematical and unwavering. Which fortifies the idea of his love for her. They are as solid and as unquestionable as a mathematic equation; which can be proved, solved and accounted for.

In 1617, aged 33, Anne More died after giving birth to her twelfth child, a still born. This event would undermine the world of Donne, and cast him into turmoil. Totally forsaken of his wife, he seemingly would have nothing to live for; as his work shows a strong passion for women, and especially for her. His work now turned to the focus of his holy sonnets, completing the cycle of this metaphysics’ life story. Now, with no-one left to love but God, he turned to a holy man. Putting all his efforts into his religious pieces, he shows a relationship that reaches the mark, if not crossing it, in honesty, love and devotion. In his poem, “Batter My Heart”, Donne seems to be so drowned in grief that he has allowed himself the temptation of sin.

“Yet dearly'I love you, and would be lov'd fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;”
The Devil and sin, in this context I believe it to be materialism and lack of faith, have taken over Donne’s life in his course of bereavement. He does not quietly ask God to save his soul, he does not humbly request the presence of his Lord; he abruptly demands that God must besieged away the demons in his life. This attitude of equals has been apparent in all of Donne’s works, but now he challenges a higher power down from the Heavens, in an egotistical yet proud sense; this shows an overall judgment of the man now writing.
“Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.”
There is no questions, insinuations or guesses in this. This is a determined order. The poem moves through three interesting conceits. The first, a pot; which God must ‘knock, breathe, shine and seek to mend;’. The pot a common religious image that God is the potter, and we simply the pot.

The second is the image of a besieged town.
“I, like an usurp'd town to'another due,
Labor to'admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.”
The town, as it would have been in ancient times, is being held captive by a tyrannous dominator, sin. God, the valiant state besieges the town in a scenario for righteousness and truth. The viceroy is a nice double-image used. God’s viceroy, in a Biblical sense, would be Jesus; but in a metaphysical sense it could simply be virtues and holiness. Donne’s honesty, his acknowledgement of how he has sinned and now tells God to make such a strong impact that sin would never return to his life, it is one of the most honest things Donne has ever written. His honest, now, in his old age reveals the softer, real facet of his personality; where is the ravenous, arrogant man who wrote ‘The Flea’ ?
The last image is of a woman stuck in a marriage with a man she does not love, and her true love waits for her.

“Yet dearly'I love you, and would be lov'd fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;”
The final two lines of the poem are of the most curious, intelligent paradoxes.
“Except you'enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.”
He tells god that he won’t be free, until God imprisons his, or that he will never be pure until god violates him. The very nature of these paradoxes show a distinct difference between good and evil, pain and nirvana, sin and virtue. To be pure, we must all aspire to our highest ideals and work to strive against sin. This, is one of the most important lessons we as humans must learn, regardless of these lines context; they speak independently of the poem. They end the poem in a perfect rhyming couplet.
Continuing his literary finesse of God, Donne next wrote “At the round earth's imagin'd corners”. In this he asks the Heavens for the necessary requirements in his person to redeem his soul. The imagery is extremely dramatic and very centred around the Book of Revelations, in the Old Testament. Where Donne summons up the Archangels to trumpet the world into it’s apocalypse.

“At the round earth's imagin'd corners, blow
Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise
From death, you numberless infinities”
He, being honest; if a little self-pitying, says that he fears his sins outnumber the sins of everyone who has ever lived or died in the entire world, this may simply be for dramatic effect but I doubt such due to the poems honest nature, there is no need for over-dramatization in this piece.
“All whom the flood did, and fire shall o'erthrow,
All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies,
Despair, law, chance hath slain”
He lists the mediums of death, how people have died over the ages. Interesting he should mention age, as if age itself was a demon. This minute little addition to the list of inflictions, shows Donne’s unbending love for his youth. The frivolous days in his life, where spontaneity rules and age holds no shackles on the human body.

The final snippet in this work shows how Donne recognized that he does not want automatic sanctuary, he recognizes that he must repent for his sins in this life, and when the Apocalypse has come; it will be too late for ask for God’s grace then.
“'Tis late to ask abundance of thy grace
When we are there; here on this lowly ground
Teach me how to repent; for that's as good
As if thou'hadst seal'd my pardon with thy blood.”
God cannot promise nirvana in the next world with his own blood; Donne must atone for his sins by himself; a true religious pearl. I think this section shows the utmost devotion and love to God, while bearing a sense of regret Donne spills to us the truth behind the razor-sharp, witty man of his youth. He is old and wise enough now that he cannot argue with God, for his Judgement is final and he will pay for his sins regardless of what he says, does, or tries to twist. This, I think, is a most beautiful part of the human being; the ability to realise by oneself.

Donne’s life certainly is a most intriguing array of lust, love and loss. His world being thrown from his wife, to his Lord. Having none but either of them really knowing who he is, the man behind the wit, behind the metaphysics of his poetry, behind the poetry itself. I think his change in attitude when he began writing his holy sonnets is most lovely. God will not let him down, and maybe his wit, charm and typical masculinity was all a façade to the people around him; they are human, they have faults and dislikes; what is they didn’t like him? Donne has many layers to him than his poetry will tell. Even the idea that he only showed his friends his poetry, and not intending to get them published. They are pieces of work to try and impress these people.
I find it quite amusing that such a confident, witty and ruling man would seem to have such a hidden quality. In this aspect, Donne emanates a quote that has been part of the human mind since the beginning of time; “Fake it ‘till you make it”. His inner doubt reassures me that even the most perfect of people have faults, and I find great comfort in thinking that was his inner personality.

So, why should you read the poetry of John Donne? Well, if his life itself hasn’t convinced you; his honesty will slowly start to make you reflect yourself; aspiring to be so honest. His images and use of conceits are of the highest quality in literature. His work deserves an audience, and being such an audience will surely begin to expand you mind, on more than just a poetic level. It is not a question of ‘Why’ you should read it, it’s a question of ‘Why you haven’t already read it?”