"Donne was much praised in his lifetime, under-praised thereafter, and over-praised earlier this century."

Now that is an unusual sentence to start the last paragraph of the Introduction with.

The Canonization - John Donne “The Canonization” is one of my favorite poem by John Donne (he is one of my favorite poets as well). The very first line of this poem captures the reader's attention.
There is something in this poem that makes me read it again and again. I love the way how Donne commands people to just keep their mouth shut and tongue intact so that he can continue loving his beloved without any interruption. Indirectly, he wants the world to go to hell and people to stop poking their nose into his business and continue on their own and to let him, to continue with whatever he is doing. Because he says his love hasn’t and will never harm anyone. This metaphysical way of expression by Donne has made me a BIG fan of his poetry.

 

I'd read some poems by Donne before, but it's amazing reading all his collected poems and being able to appreciate how consistently good they are--at least the sonnets and elegies which stand up being compared to those of Shakespeare. They're erudite, but accessible, although the edition I read didn't regularize the spelling--and frankly I think you only gain in readability if that's modernized and can't see what you'd lose unless you have a scholarly interest. Almost all the "Songs and Sonets" and "Elegies and Historical Epistle" that begin the Poetry section are love poetry, but they really run the gamut in tone. They're all witty and clever, and some are passionate and gorgeously romantic. Among those I particularly loved "The Good-Morrow," "The Sun Rising" and "Canonization." Others though are outrageous but funny ("The Flea") or bawdy ("Love's Progress") or surprisingly sensual, even erotic ("To His Mistress Coming to Bed"). Some are irreverent, cynical, even misogynist, and I'm not sure at times whether to take as tongue in cheek such humorous verse as "Go and Catch a Falling Star," "Woman's Constancy" or the last lines of "Love's Alchemy." "Hope not for mind in women: at their best sweetness and wit, they are but Mummy possessed." However, so many of the love poems seem to so strongly imply mutual love based on a respect for the beloved, it's hard to take seriously Donne's sometimes twitting of the female sex. (And reading his prose, which often speaks on topics concerning women, somehow doesn't clarify but only complicates the issue.) I have to admit grinning though at his epigram, "A Self Accuser:" Your mistress, that you follow whores, still taxeth you/'Tis strange that she should thus confess it, though 't be true. The best of the poetry are definitely amazing "five star" reads, but I wasn't enchanted by all of his poetry. I can't say I found any of the "Satyres" or "Verse Letters" all that winning. The next section in which I could say I could list favorites were among his "Holy Sonnets" which included XVII "At the round earth's imagin'd corners," the famous X "Death Be Not Proud" and XIV "Batter my heart, three perso'd God." The believing Christian may find the section of Divine Poems even more appealing, but even an unbeliever like me could appreciate their brilliance and passion as every bit as extraordinary as the love poetry. All in all, I'd rate the poetry section about four or even four and half stars in terms of how much I loved them, despite some I wasn't taken with. But then there's Donne's prose. It was moving, or at least interesting, reading some of his letters that dealt with his marriage, and there's the famous Meditation #17 From Devotions upon Emergent Occasions with its famous "no man is an island" passage. But I have to admit, I found most of the prose works a true slog I soon was skimming. It's not that I couldn't see there was a first rate mind still at work. But in the end I'm not a believing Christian, and the bulk of his prose works--half of them in the book are sermons--deal with very esoteric and dated religious issues I just couldn't care less about--and I'm the kind of person who actually read Lewis' Mere Christianity from beginning to end and counts Dante a favorite. So unless a reader has a scholarly interest in 17th century Christian theology, I'd find it hard to believe they would find reading these prose works interesting in the same way as, for instance, Montaigne's Essays written in the century before Donne which range wider in their topics and are still relevant and accessible to the modern reader. So unless you're a Donne scholar or have a particular interest in his times, you might actually be best off seeking a book with a selection of his poetry rather than this more comprehensive collection of his works of both his poetry and prose.

Again, as a disclaimer I have not read this particular edition of John Donne's poetry. I have however read many of the poems found in this edition and therefore find it a particularly reasonable version to use to talk about the poems I read as stand alone works.

John Donne was a fascinating character, with a most interesting mixture of personality types. He was, I think, the type of character that true Christianity was and is meant to attract: he was a religious rebel. Earlier in his life he was a party animal from all accounts, the type of man who loved women and who found no reason why they should not love him back. His earliest poetry, such as the famous (or infamous) The Flea is a symbol of this early rebellion:

Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deny'st me is;
It sucked me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea, our two bloods mingled be;
Thou knowest that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead.
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pampered, swells with one blood made of two,
And this, alas, is more than we would do.

Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, yea, more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is;
Though parents grudge, and you, we are met
And cloistered in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that self murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.

Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be
Except in that drop which it sucked from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st, and sayest that thou
Find'st not thyself, nor me, the weaker now.
'Tis true, then learn how false fears be;
Just so much honor, when thou yieldst to me,
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.

The argument being here that, since the flea has taken blood from both of us already we have already intermingled in some way. In other words Donne was a smooth talker trying to convince a woman that going to bed was fine since they'd already had blood mixed by a third party. Romantic and smooth...or not.

But even when Donne became drawn into 'religion' becoming a man of great importance in the Anglican Church he was a rebel. Which I find fascinating because in many respects Christ himself was a rebel of his times, not caring about convention or even about contention but more about conversion and salvation. The message of Christ is one which naturally broke and breaks cultural barriers and set rigid structures and is not meant to be one of pomp and celebration. And in many ways Donne's later poetry reflects this. His poetry retains that earthy sensuality of his youth but shows a sense of adult maturity and a sense that Donne has become captured by the wonder of a personal God.

I particularly like these three of his Holy Sonnets:

Batter my heart, three-personed 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.
I, like an usurped town, to another due,
Labor to admit you, but O, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
but is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betrothed unto your enemy.
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again;
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor even chaste, except you ravish me.

There is this fascinating sense to how Donne writes his poetry here. It's almost Shakespearian but he has his own flavour with how he opens the poetry with an eye catching line like: batter my heart. The alliteration of 'break, blow, burn' reinforces the sense of violence as connected to the holy love this poetry is about. And therefore in many ways it all makes for an interesting final line, which shows how Donne ends much of his poetry, with two connected and yet contradictory ideas. There is the sense that Donne will never be virginal unless God ravishes him, yet it makes little sense for one to be both virgin and have been ravished as the poem suggests. Has perhaps Donne captured something as to the nature of God, that the things God does cannot be understood as we understand them - much as ideas exist in the Bible as in Matthew 16:25 'For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it.'

Death, be not proud, though some have callèd thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which yet thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more, must low
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings and desperate men
And dost with poison, war and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then ?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

This was the first Donne poem I was ever introduced to. It still retains that sense of rhythm, power and awe when I read it again. It has a strong opening few lines and a strong closing line or two with that same contradictory element: sleep to wake.

Spit in my face you Jews, and pierce my side,
Buffet, and scoff, scourge, and crucify me,
For I have sinned, and sinned, and only he
Who could do no iniquity hath died:
But by my death can not be satisfied
My sins, which pass the Jews' impiety:
They killed once an inglorious man, but I
Crucify him daily, being now glorified.
Oh let me, then, his strange love still admire:
Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment.
And Jacob came clothed in vile harsh attire
But to supplant, and with gainful intent:
God clothed himself in vile man's flesh, that so
He might be weak enough to suffer woe.

Finally I conclude with this poem. I find it fascinatingly bold again and the contradictory element here is of how God became weak to be able to suffer woe.

These seem the hallmarks of John Donne's poems: strong and conflict centred openings and strong semantically contradictory conclusions. If you appreciate these aspects and the wild preacher poet behind them then I recommend checking out more of John Donne's work further. He really was an honest individual in many ways...