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[personal profile] fabrisse
Gakked from Siderea.

When you see this, post some poetry in your own journal.

Elegy XIX:

Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
Until I labor, I in labor 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 glittering,
But a far fairer world encompassing.
Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear,
That th'eyes of busy fools may be stopt there.
Unlace your self, for that harmonious chime,
Tells me from you, that now it is bed time.
Off with that happy busk, which I envie,
That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
Your gown going off, such beautious state reveals,
As when from flow'ry meads th'hills shadow steals.
Off with that wiry Coronet and show
The hairy diadem which on you doth grow:
Now off with those shoes, and then softly tread
In this, love's hallow'd temple, this soft bed.
In such white robes, heaven's Angels us'd to be
Receiv'd by men: thou Angel bringst with thee?
A heaven like Mahomet's Paradice, and though
Ill spirits walk in white, we eas'ly know,
By this these Angels from an evil sprite,
Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.

     License my roving hands, and let them go,
Behind, before, above, between, below.
O my America! my new-found-land,
My kingdom, safeliest when with one man man'd,
My mine of precious stones: my emperie,
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 joyes. Gems which you women use
Are like Atlanta's balls, cast in mens 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 mystick books, which only wee
(Whom their imputed grace will dignify)
Must see rever'd. Then since that I may know;
As liberally, as to a midwife show
Thyself: 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?

John Donne
1699

Date: 2004-10-18 02:12 am (UTC)
siderea: (Default)
From: [personal profile] siderea
*blush* *fan* *fan*

Gracious. John Donne wrote porn? Who knew.

Date: 2004-10-18 04:42 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fabrisse.livejournal.com
Oh, yes. Or should that be "Yes, yes, yes!"?

Donne's early poetry is some of the most sensual stuff ever written. Even his reaction to God has some very sexual metaphors like the conclusion to his Holy Sonnet "Batter my heart, three-person'd God...":
Take me to you, imprison me, for I
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.


It's Christian mysticism at its most orgasmic.

Date: 2004-10-18 04:46 am (UTC)
siderea: (Default)
From: [personal profile] siderea
Oo. And to think: if only they'd dropped hints in HS...

Date: 2004-10-18 05:43 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fabrisse.livejournal.com
One of my high school teachers used to real them in with some fairly explicit Byron because in the late 1960s (not that I was in high school in the late 1960s -- it was when she started teaching) his portraits were the ultimate upper class hippie look. Then she'd move on to Marvell and John Donne and Chaucer.

I've never particularly cared for Byron or Marvell, but Donne -- both in his religious and profane works -- makes me melt every time.

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