John Donne

[NNadir]

http://images.npg.org.uk:8080/OCimg/264_325/4/4/mw111844.jpg

National Portrait Gallery, London, England.

Possibly about 1595, artist unknown.

[CaliforniaPeggy]

1. My dear NNadir!

Ah...John Donne!

An amazing poet...

Thank you for this!

:hug:

[Critters2]

2. My academic adviser in grad school, who's still a good friend, did his PhD

on Donne. So, I got to know Donne quite well in those years. He was an amazing poet!

[NNadir]

3. You're quite welcome.

One can never get too much Donne.

[elshiva]

4. Thank you. I never saw that painting before.

He was a great man. Great poet, great lover. :)

[NNadir]

5. My pleasure. I wish we knew who the artist was. A lot of paintings don't capture an intellect

quite like this one does.

And one does see something of the lover too.

[elshiva]

6. That painting portrays him with sensual, pink lips.

:loveya:
I love him. :)

[tigereye]

7. ah looks as lovely, mysterious and engaging as his work.

What lovely things his poems are.

[Withywindle]

8. I would hit that like the fist of an angry god.

I wish lace collars for men would come back. Also, literacy.

[Tuesday Afternoon]

9. oh yes

:thumbsup:

[6000eliot]

10. "Rave on"

per Van Morrison.

[elleng]

11. .....

....No man is an island, entire of itself...any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

[NNadir]

14. I often think these words among the most beautiful in the English language.

They are always in the back of my mind.

[Flaxbee]

12. Did you ever see "Wit" - either on stage or the tv version with Emma Thompson?

I now ALWAYS think of that play whenever I hear someone quote "Death, be not proud". Emma Thompson actually read it beautifully.

[ashling]

13. This was read at my mom's funeral

DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee, 5
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell, 10
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

[NNadir]

15. We read "For whom the Bell Tolls" at my uncle's funeral.

[GoddessOfGuinness]

16. He looks like a guy I had a crush on in college

It's a beautiful portrait!

[Manifestor_of_Light]

17. I wrote a paper about him in high school Senior English.

I wrote a paper about "The Sun Rising".

The guy is in bed with his lady love, and watching the sun rise and philosophizing about it.

Very cool.



THE SUN RISING.
by John Donne


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.

============================


Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime;
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

Great stuff!!!