Well, as today's POETS day (aka Friday; Faq of the week day; and more specificaly 'P**s Off Early Tomorrow's Saturday) it's clearly the best time to be answering this FAQ. To decide on one poet alone was however a very tricky task. This faq has taken us on a delightful poetic journey...wandering lonely as a cloud, dancing with daffodils and blackberry picking through silent lands...carefully avoiding the tyger, tyger burning bright and side-stepping the old woman wearing purple, in the darkness among the gusty trees.
We've pondered over the 'Nation's Favourites' including Wordsworth's 'Upon Westminster Bridge', Coleridge's 'Ancient Mariner' and Carroll's 'Jabberwocky' but weren't able to settle upon these. 'Stopping by woods on a snowy evening' and 'the road not taken', we considered the merits of Frost and 'everyone sang' when we paused to ponder Sassoon; Owen's 'Athem for doomed youth' was the tune of the moment. We Lear(ed) at the Owl and the Pussy-cat as they danced by the light of the moon, before working our way through Kipling's woods. We even took time to go to the toilet with Hugo Williams while we weighed up Love's Philosphy by Shelley. None of this was filling us with the satisFAQtion we sought.
Mediocrity in love rejected, we decided to get 'metaphysical'. From John Hall we heard the call. Holy Sonnets! - It was time for the change. We were introduced to John Donne, the greatest poet of all time. At last it was 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-discoverers 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.
We've pondered over the 'Nation's Favourites' including Wordsworth's 'Upon Westminster Bridge', Coleridge's 'Ancient Mariner' and Carroll's 'Jabberwocky' but weren't able to settle upon these. 'Stopping by woods on a snowy evening' and 'the road not taken', we considered the merits of Frost and 'everyone sang' when we paused to ponder Sassoon; Owen's 'Athem for doomed youth' was the tune of the moment. We Lear(ed) at the Owl and the Pussy-cat as they danced by the light of the moon, before working our way through Kipling's woods. We even took time to go to the toilet with Hugo Williams while we weighed up Love's Philosphy by Shelley. None of this was filling us with the satisFAQtion we sought.
Mediocrity in love rejected, we decided to get 'metaphysical'. From John Hall we heard the call. Holy Sonnets! - It was time for the change. We were introduced to John Donne, the greatest poet of all time. At last it was 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-discoverers 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.
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2 comments:
John Donne! I haven't thought about him in ages, not since the last time I took an early literature class. And I quite like this poem you've posted? But you really think he's greater than Carroll or Wordsworth or even Shakespeare? :D (Although I suppose it's nice that someone DIDN'T automatically go directly to Shakespeare for once. Variety is good, yes?)
Interesting, of course its all about individual perception but I approve. Good choice, poetry is undervalued these days.
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