POETRY LESSON 1 @ SWEETEST LOVE , I DO NOT GOE

John  Donne

 

JOHN DONNE (1572-1631), the pioneer of a new kind of lyrical ant satirical verse called 'Metaphysical', was born in London into a prosperous Roman Catholic family of traders at a time when born in London into a prosperous Roman Catholic Family of traders at a time when England was staunchly anti-Catholic.Donne was forced to leave Oxford University without a degree because of his religion. He studied law, and read theology. He also participated in two Noval expeditions and became secretary to a powerful nobel, a job he lost when he was briefly sent to prison for secretly his patron's niece. In 1615, at the age of 42, Donne accepted ordination in the Anglican Church and soon became one of the greatest preachers of his time.In love lyricism, Done broke completely with the Petrarchan tradition,Introducing an intellectual and colloquial tone. His love poems use the latest discoveries of science and geography to hammer home a point and combine passion with verbal and intellectual 'teasing' Donne is well known for his Songs and sonnets Satires and the Elegies and Sermons. Genuine poetic feelings, harsh metres, strained and whimsical images characterise all his poetic creations.

SWEETEST LOVE , I DO NOT GOE

Sweetest love , I Do not goe,

For wearinesse of thee,

Nor in the hope the world can show 

A fitter Love for mee;

But since that I 

Must bye at last, 'tis best,

To use my selfe in Jest

Thus by fain'd deaths to dye.

Yesternight the Sunne went hence,

And yet is here to day,

He hath no desire nor sence,

Nor halfe so short a way:

Then feare not mee, 

But beleeve that I shall make

Speedier Journeys, Since I take

More wings and spurres then hee.

O How feeble is mans power,

That if good fortune fail,

Cannot adde another houre,

Nor a lost houre recall!

But come bad chance,

And wee joyne it our strength,

and wee teach it art and length.

It selfe o'rus to advance

When thou sigh'st, thou sigh'st not winde,

But sigh'st my soule away,

When thou wee st, unkindly kinde, 

My lifes blood doth decay.

it cannot bee

That thou lov'st mee, as thou say'st 

If in thine my life thou waste,

Thou art the best of mee,

Let not they divining heart 

Forethink me any ill,

Destiny may take thy part,

And may thy feares fulfil;

But thinke that wee

Are but turn'd aside to sleepe;

They who one another keepe

Alive, ne'r parted bee.