G. M. Hopkins Heaven-haven

Commentary

But when the beloved kills the flea despite the speaker’s protestations (and probably as a deliberate move to squash his argument, as well), he turns his argument on its head and claims that despite the high-minded and sacred ideals he has just been invoking, killing the flea did not really impugn his beloved’s honor—and despite the high-minded and sacred ideals she has invoked in refusing to sleep with him, doing so would not impugn her honor either.

This poem is the cleverest of a long line of sixteenth-century love poems using the flea as an erotic image, a genre derived from an older poem of Ovid. Donne’s poise of hinting at the erotic without ever explicitly referring to sex, while at the same time leaving no doubt as to exactly what he means, is as much a source of the poem’s humor as the silly image of the flea is; the idea that being bitten by a flea would represent “sin, or shame, or loss of maidenhead” gets the point across with a neat conciseness and clarity that Donne’s later religious lyrics never attained.
THE GOOD-MORROW.
by John Donne


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.

Few come close to such a thorough expression of love as John Donne. In his poem, ‘The Good Morrow,’ Donne fully employs the numerous devices of poetry to relay his speaker’s endearing message to his lover. He uses elements of structure, figurative language, point-of-view, and tone to creatively support his speaker in the endeavor. However, not all aspects of the poem are clear due to the astute allusions and references by the learned Donne. Examples of these unclear elements are found in the first stanza’s ‘seaven sleepers den’ phrase, the second stanza’s exploration imagery, and the final stanza’s hemispherical imagery. On the surface, these references may seem to be carelessly included and non-supportive of the central theme. But we will come to see that these references do much to further support the speaker’s message. We will come to discover that Donne’s ‘The Good Morrow’ is poem that efficiently uses devices to maximize the poetic potential of the verse, and contains erudite allusions and references that further support the speaker’s message to his beloved.

‘The Good Morrow’ is interestingly structured to aid the speaker in his message. The poem is divided into three stanzas, each of which includes seven lines. In addition, each of these stanzas is further divided into a quatrain and a triplet. In the book, John Donne and the Metaphysical Gesture, Judah Stampfer notes that each ‘iambic pentameter quatrain is rounded out, not with a couplet, but a triplet with an Alexandrine close a, b, a, b, c, c, c.’ (142). This division is not solely reflected in the rhyme scheme, but also in the verse. For example, the quatrain is used to reveal the speaker’s state of mind, while the triplet allows the speaker to reflect on that mindset (Stampfer 142). In addition, the first stanza strategically uses assonance to reinforce the word ‘we.’ This is done by a repetition of the long e sound. For example, all of these words are from the first stanza: we, wean’d, countrey, childlishly, sleepers, fancies, bee, any, beauty, see, desir’d, dreame, thee. As you can see, this is not merely coincidence, but an ingenious strategy to further emphasize the union of the two lovers. However, Donne uses assonance for the opposite effect in the last stanza. Instead of focusing on the couple, the speaker focuses on himself by reinforcing the word ‘I.’ This is done by a repetition of the long i sound. For example, all of these words can be found in the third stanza: I, thine, mine, finde, declining, dyes, alike, die. True, there are instances of the long e sound in the third stanza, but the long i sound predominates. Due to this, there is an obvious opposition to what the speaker says, and to what the musicality of the poem suggests. From a musical perspective, instead of being primarily focused on the union, the speaker appears to be more concerned with himself. However, this view will change as we further discuss the poem.

Donne’s use of figurative language, along with the point-of-view and tone of the speaker, enhance his poem. First of all, sexual imagery is present in the first stanza. For example, words such as ‘wean’d’ and ‘suck’d’ elicit breast images. These loaded terms also help identify ‘countrey pleasures’ as a metaphor for breasts. Another example of metaphor is the word ‘beauty’ in line 6, which actually represents the woman. Metaphysical conceits are also present in the poem. An example is the hemispherical imagery representing the lovers in the final stanza. In the second stanza, there is an example of hyperbole when the speaker says ‘makes one little roome, an every where.’ This is an obvious exaggeration and a physical impossibility. There is also use of paradox in the poem. For example, when the speaker says: ‘true plaine hearts doe in the faces rest.’ Obviously, this phrase is paradoxical as hearts cannot rest in faces. An example of metonomy can be found in the last stanza when the speaker states: ‘My face in thine eye, thine in mine appeares.’ The speaker does not mean that his face literally appears in his lover’s eye, but that she is aware of him. There are also two allusions in the poem, one with the ‘seaven sleepers den,’ the other with the ‘hemispheares,’ both of which are explained in greater detail later in the paper. Furthermore, there is a superb example of symbolism in the poem. This can be found once in the poem itself, and in the title”good morrow.’ This not only represents the physical sunrise, but also symbolizes the birth of the awakened individual. In addition, the point-of-view of the speaker is from the first-person perspective. Although there are two individuals involved in the poem, only the male speaker is heard. And finally, the tone is casually intimate. Clues to the informal atmosphere of the poem can be found by glancing at the coarse language used by the speaker, such as: ‘suck’d,’ ‘snorted,’ and ‘got.’ Despite the coarseness, the speaker is clearly infatuated with the women being addressed.

The phrase ‘seaven sleepers den’ introduced in the first stanza could be interpreted in more than one way. The most direct event this phrase might be alluding to is a ‘Christian and Mohammedan legend of the seven youths of Ephesus who hid in a cave for 187 years so as to avoid pagan persecution during the dawn of Christianity’ (Bloom). Amazingly, these youths did not die, but slept for the entire period (‘Good’). So the speaker could be comparing the period prior to the realization of their love to the ‘seaven sleepers’ in that they both ‘snorted’, or slept (OED), in what appeared to be a seemingly infinite amount of time. But except for line 4, there are no other references that take the analogy further. There is, however, another possibility. In his article, ‘Plato in John Donne’s ‘The Good Morrow’,’ Christopher Nassaar proposes that this reference may be more accurately alluding to Plato’s Cave Allegory (20-21; Fig. 1). In Book VII of The Republic, Plato, through Socrates, describes a world in which mankind has been imprisoned in a cave since birth. These ‘prisoners’ are chained at the legs and neck, and can only see the shadows on the wall caused by themselves and other objects that block the firelight (Plato ‘Book’). So everything the prisoners believe to be real is in fact an illusion. They are mistaking ‘shadows of shadows for reality’ (Nassaar 20). The analogy continues with a prisoner being released and ascending from the cave into the outside world, where he eventually comes to discover God, the true reality of the world, and the illusionary nature of the cave (Plato ‘Book’). Donne’s speaker is then comparing his life before love with the confinement of Plato’s prisoners. Basically, when compared against their present love, ‘all past pleasures have been merely ‘fancies,’ and the women he ‘desir’d, and got’ were only a ‘dream’ of this one woman’ (‘Good’). Then when he finally ascends from the cave, he discovers the superior reality of his beloved, and desires not to return to the lust-ridden cave of his past.

The purpose of the exploration imagery in the second stanza is to further reveal the speaker’s preference of his new relationship over worldly desires. In the triplet of the second stanza, the speaker states:

Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone,
Let Maps to other, worlds on worlds have showne,
Let us possesse one world, each hath one, and is one.

This apparent digression actually further supports the Platonic association of the first stanza. First of all, we must remember that the earthly pursuits of Elizabethan England were much different than from the present. One of the primary public interests was the ongoing exploration of the world. Although this had been going on for some time, it was in the ‘Elizabethan-Jacobean era’ that exploration ‘saw its really great florescence’ (Rugoff 137). And ‘with the Thames the most popular of local thoroughfares and with sailors scattered throughout the city, the average Londoner of Elizabeth’s day could hardly help knowing something of ships and sea travel’ (Rugoff 129). However, many people from this era knew of the Americas, but few had ever been there. Any knowledge they did have was second-hand and intangible, which left Elizabethans with a distorted perception of the New World. Therefore, these ‘new worlds’ represent a sort of dream, and the desire to pursue these dreams is directly related to the illusions of the cave. The speaker views this popular pastime as a tool to placate slaves, and not an activity for an enlightened individual, such as himself. There is no need for him to search for ‘new worlds’ since he has already found it in the union of him and his beloved. ‘In possessing one another, each has gained world enough’ (Bloom).

The hemispherical imagery in the third stanza could be interpreted as both spatially acute, and related to a farcical Platonic view on the origin of humanity. Donne ‘collapses his geographical metaphor into the tiny reflection of each lover’s face in the other’s eye’ (Holland 63). So while maintaining the expansive, world-filling, declaration of his love in the second stanza, the speaker states that this world of love is contained within their eyes. However, this view proves more difficult to support upon viewing the following lines. This is because Donne’s speaker metaphorically describes the pair as two separate ‘hemispheares.’ Now it is possible that these two ‘hemispheares’ could represent the eyes. However, since the speaker is talking about the couple, it would have been more accurate to mention four, not two. Also, the cardinal point imagery is not clear when using this interpretation. On the other hand, the hemispherical imagery also alludes to an odd speech by Aristophanes in Plato’s Symposium (Holland 64). In his speech, Aristophanes relates an amusing legend of humanity’s origin. Basically, Aristophanes stated that at the beginning of time, human beings took the form of a sphere. Each ‘individual’ had four legs, four arms, and a single head with a face on either side. The story goes that as a penalty for angering the gods, Zeus divided each human being into two separate beings. But although they were distinct individuals, they were still spiritual halves endlessly seeking to reunite as a whole. This natural instinct to reunite the halves is Aristophanes’ explanation of love (Plato Symposium 18-23). So Donne’s speaker believes he has found his other half in his beloved, and together they form the original whole. Furthermore, the cardinal point imagery is cleared up with this interpretation. For example, the speaker states: ‘Where can we finde two better hemispheares/ Without sharpe North, without declining West” The speaker is saying that in their new united spherical world, ‘North’ and ‘West’ are absent. The relationship will not be frigid, or ‘sharpe,’ nor will it wane, or be ‘declining.’ Instead, their relationship will be one of warmth and everlasting love. So now that we have discussed the various elements included in the poem, what exactly does it mean’

‘The Good Morrow’ is a chronological and spatial poem through which the speaker reveals his growing maturity and awareness of his love as a response to his awakening, and reinforces this union in the musicality of the poem. The poem is chronological in that it progresses from a symbolic infant stage in the first stanza, to the morning of the present in the second, and finally in the last stanza, to an immortal outlook of their relationship in the future. The poem is spatial in that love is initially represented as being confined to ‘one little roome,’ or a cave, to expanding to fill an entire ‘world,’ then contracting all this love into a powerful force that is contained in the eyes of the pair. The poem can also be viewed as a maturing of the speaker in that he progressed from a life of physical lust, to love, and finally longing to be eternally fused with his beloved. Also, the speaker becomes increasingly aware of his love for the woman. In the beginning, he was engrossed in other women, but he came to realize that these women were just reflections of what he was truly chasing, the one real woman. In addition, the poem is centered on a theme of awakening. The poem begins with the speaker having been figuratively asleep in a cave, as in Plato’s analogy. But his woman finally releases him and he emerges into the sunlight, ‘the good morrow,’ a new man growing increasingly aware of his love. Furthermore, the speaker reinforces this union through the musicality of the verse. The focus actually begins on the couple with sounds that reinforce ‘we,’ but ends with sound that reinforces ‘I.’ This represents the union of the two halves into the one ‘I.’

Overall, we have seen how Donne used poetic devices and learned references to support the speaker. First, we analyzed the unique structure and musical elements within the poem. Then we examined how Donne used figurative language, point-of-view, and tone to create a more believable speaker. Next, we took a closer look at ‘seaven sleepers den’ phrase, and saw how it has roots in both Christian mythology and Platonic allegory. After that, we gained a better understanding of Donne’s use of exploration imagery in the second stanza. Then we investigated the farcical Platonic basis for the hemispherical imagery in the third stanza. And finally, we examined the poem from a holistic perspective and recognized how all of these various elements contributed to the overall message. So we have come to discover that Donne’s ‘The Good Morrow’ is poem that efficiently uses devices to maximize the poetic potential of the verse, and contains erudite allusions and references that further support the speaker’s message to his beloved.
Song: Goe and catch a falling starre, John Donne

GO and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
Or who cleft the devil's foot,
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy's stinging,
And find
What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind. 

If thou be'st born to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
Till age snow white hairs on thee,
Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,
All strange wonders that befell thee,
And swear,
No where
Lives a woman true and fair. 

If thou find'st one, let me know,
Such a pilgrimage were sweet;
Yet do not, I would not go,
Though at next door we might meet,
Though she were true, when you met her,
And last, till you write your letter,
Yet she
Will be
False, ere I come, to two, or three.

John Donne’s “Song: Go, and Catch a Falling Star” (1633) is a perfect example of Donne’s earlier playfulness with metaphysical conceits and female sexuality.  As a younger poet, before Donne became an Anglican Theological Doctorate famous for his sermons, John Donne was a rather ‘maiden-obsessed’ Jacobean poet with a reputation for sonnets about the women of London.  John Donne’s “Song: Go, and Catch a Falling Star”, is an example of some of the humorous works Donne would come up with for the drunken jokers of English taverns to recite when out of favor with the ladies.

John Donne (1572 – 1631) was a metaphysical lyrical poet famous for his use of the metaphysical conceit: a strange and interesting comparison between two subjects when they, in fact, have very little in common at all.  These comparisons are so outrageous that in doing so, Donne’s poetry could almost be considered metaphysical ‘humor.’  A classic example of Donne’s work, “The Flea” (1633), shares much of the style and banter of “Song: Go, and Catch a Falling Star”.  In “The Flea”, Donne attempts to persuade a woman to make love with him by describing a bedbug that had bitten them both, and then comparing that insect to a wedding bed.  In Donne’s argument, because their blood was consequently mingling within the insect, was that they were already unified in a symbolic sanguine marriage, and so the physical act of love between them now would be of little consequence to the woman’s principles.  This same sense of humor, the one that made John Donne such a historical poet, is what a reader would find in Donne’s “Song: Go, and Catch a Falling Star.”

John Donne’s “Song: Go, and Catch a Falling Star” is a metaphysical conceit of the unnaturally small frequency of fair and virtuous women in the world.  Donne uses the fantastic and impossible examples of catching falling stars; pregnancies with mandrake roots; and hearing mermaids singing to describe just how hard it is to find a beautiful woman who will stay true and loyal to her husband.  Donne describes in the second and final stanza of “Song: Go, and Catch a Falling Star” how if one were to search the world for a thousand days and nights, seeing many strange and wonderful things, they would still not find a single faithful woman.  Donne even goes so far as to state in the last stanza that if he were to know where that perfect woman was, even if she was next door, she would already be false with several men before he even managed to walk the few steps to reach her.

In interpreting John Donne’s poem, “Song: Go, and Catch a Falling Star”, it would be quick to assume he holds some religiously pious distain for women who, by Biblical nature, where liars and deceivers.   True, it seems to be something of a sermon for young clergymen to be weary of the female seductress and, true, he probably did write it when he was still stinging from an unfaithful young lover he had when he was himself a young man of reputation, but its entertaining wit and imaginative conceit almost dictates a humorous jest at female stereotypes.  After all, what lover, after finding a partner unfaithful, doesn’t go through a phase of distaining the offending sex.  John Donne, in his classic style, avenges himself with a sonnet sharp enough to draw blood, yet still softly touched with humor so to keep it in circulation well after his death.

“Song: Go, and Catch a Falling Star,” is one of John Donne’s most famous early poems about female nature.  Its lines of witty stereotypical prose would serve as a rallying banner for betrayed young men throughout London; striking at those femme-fatal’s of the gentleman’s heart.  Yet, the female reader should not loose any love for Donne.  He was, after all, a young poet whose satirical works were his main focus in his early period.  In the end, however, he did marry his loving wife, Anne, to whom he stayed passionately involved until her death in 1617, and never remarried even though they had a large family of eleven children together.

Donne titled this poem Song, which should be considered when determining its tone. He intended the poem to be sung to a pre-existing "air or melody." The fact that it was composed as lyrics explains the two-syllable lines that precede the final line of each stanza. Words that might sound bitter and cynical seem less so when put to music even if we don't know the tune. The wit and humor are reminiscent of American country-western songs that wail of lost loves, straying dogs, and pick-up trucks that break down. If the song is played backwards, the wife or lover comes back home, as also does the dog; and the motor vehicle runs just fine.

In the first verse, the speaker or singer addresses an unspecified interlocutor, assigning him seven impossible tasks to perform. No way can a person "catch a falling star" or "Get with child a mandrake root."

The mandrake is a European herb with a forked root often taken to resemble human legs. It was the subject of numerous superstitions. The plant was variously believed to be an aphrodisiac, a cathartic, a poison, and a narcotic. In Othello, Iago plays on the latter meaning when he says: "Not poppy nor mandragora/ Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world / Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep." In Donne's song, the operative interpretation is that of legs. But achieving "oneness" and procreating with a vegetable root is about as likely as catching a falling star.

Similarly impossible are the demands that the interlocutor tell where past years have gone, explain how the Devil's feet happen to be cloven, how to hear the song of mermaids, avoid the sting of envy , and finally to find any condition or situation of life that rewards honesty. The speaker's attitude is cynical, but not to be taken seriously.

In the second verse or stanza, the focus narrows to feminine virtue. The audience are instructed to set out on a quest to find evidence of the strange and miraculous - a woman who is both true and fair. Presumably, faithful women may be found among the homely and unattractive, but those gifted with beauty will have more opportunities for infidelities and will capitalize on them.

The concluding verse tells the person addressed: if he is able to locate one fair and virtuous woman, please inform the speaker so that he can make a holy pilgrimage to whatever shrine she inhabits. Then he countermands that instruction saying he would not even walk next door to see such a woman because, although she may have been virtuous before,

by the time the speaker gets the message from his confidant she will have been false two or three times.

The poem is written in melodious iambic tetrameter except for the single-foot lines. The rhyme scheme is ababccddd. Lines 5 and 6 of each verse end in feminine or two-syllable rhymes with the final syllables unaccented. The extravagance of his hyperbole ("ten thousand days and nights") and the witty wording of his images counteract the poet's feigned cynicism and disillusionment. Amazing that he can communicate so clearly with tongue tucked deeply into cheek.

Donne's writing parallels his career. His early poems, written when he was a libertine known as "Jack the Rake, have this poem's playful attitude and are variations of the La Donna e Mobile theme of woman's fickleness.

Those written after his falling in love and eloping with Anne More treat love with sincerity and seriousness. Examples are his famous Valediction Forbidding Mourning and The Canonization.

Later, having become a clergyman, he wrote his Holy Sonnets in which he turned the language of his stage-one poems into religious directions. A prime example is his Sonnet 14, which begins:

Batter my heart, three-personed God; for you

As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend

and concludes

Take me to you, imprison me, for I,

Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,

Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

One would be hard pressed to find another poem by a clergyman in which the Divinity is addressed in the same manner that one of such persuasion might instruct a dominatrix. is Poem 'Go and catch a Falling Star' describes his cynical attitude towards women and the duality of good and bad characteristics that all human beings are born with. The poem starts by challenging the reader to catch a falling star. The falling star can signify something bright and beautiful that has come to an end and how difficult it is hold on to this goodness for ever. It could also suggest to the reader to try and make a wish and see if it comes true. In fact for him it is as difficult to catch a falling star as it is to 'get with child a mandrake root' which shows the stark contrast of getting a child which is something innocent and joyous to a mandrake root which is used in witchcraft to wish death on someone. Again the contrast of living and the positive is contrasted with death and negativity.

He asks 'who cleft the devil's foot' which is a question he poses to God, as if to imply that He created evil in the devil himself. 'Teach me to hear mermaids singing, or to keep off envy's stinging,' is the next line which again shows the beauty and innocence of a mermaid and her song which contrasts with envy and the stinging the same beauty can cause. This could be a comparison of a woman and her beauty and the ugly emotions she could hide under that 'beauty. He continues to ask 'What wind serves to advance an honest mind' which suggests that no amount of wind can blow goodness or honesty into a person.

The next line 'ride ten thousand days and nights, till age snow white hairs on thee' challenges the reader to travel far and wide and experience 'strange wonders' in order to find a woman 'true and fair' This is his cynicism about the character of a woman and how difficult it is to find someone who is genuine and trustworthy. He concludes by saying that if you are lucky to find a woman like that 'yet she will be false, ere I come, to two or three.' This shows that for him that woman will only be good for a short while after which the falseness will show through. The satirical aspect of his belief is seen in the last line 'ere I come, to two or three' which implies that for a while she might be good but after a while she will show her true colours.

The cynical attitude of John Donne about life, about religion and about women is shown throughout this poem. 'Go and catch a falling star' summarises this attitude by suggesting that all things remain good only for a short while after which they have to come down the pedestal.

In his poem, Go and Catch a Falling Star, John Donne demonstrates the impossibility of finding the perfect female. The poem, with its quiet yet bitter cynicism of women, reflects the underlying theme of many of Donne's other works in which he blames the evilness of women for his pain and heartbreak.

The first stanza of the poem is a list of impossible tasks, all of which Donne compares to finding an honest, good woman. The poem begins with a strong yet impossible command: "Go and catch a falling star". Already Donne has demonstrated something that is basically impossible. He does not use fallen but "falling," showing that hope is not all lost and that although the star (often a symbol of hope and faith) is falling, it has not completely hit the ground yet.

So, while Donne asks the impossible he still exhibits hope. He then states to "Get with child a mandrake root." The mandrake is a poisonous and narcotic plant that was formerly falsely used for its roots, which has been said to resemble the human flesh, to promote conception. Supposedly, when pulled from the ground it would let out an awesome shriek and cause death to the person who uprooted it. By using "child" and "mandrake root," Donne exemplifies the deception of the root and the impossibility of getting a child from the root.

Also, the mandrake reflects the lethality of women perceived by Donne. In the third and fourth line, Donne orders the reader to tell him exactly everything about the past and who split the Devil's hoof. Both, including his desire to hear mermaids sing, are mysteries that are impossible to solve. Also, the devil's hoof and mandrake root resemble each other with 3 prongs each, symbolizing the multiplicities and deception of women which is furthered by Donne's mention of mermaids, creatures that are women only from the waist up and lure men to death with their beautiful voices (similar to the Sirens in The Odyssey).

Donne's bitterness is revealed in the sixth to ninth lines, "Or to keep off envy's stinging an honest mind." The envy he speaks of is the envy of others that lust after another man's woman, and he argues that it is impossible for jealous ones not to torment and compete with the man they are envious of. Donne also implies that honesty is never awarded because he has not found a wind that has brought prosperity to the honest mind, something he believes to be impossible to find. In modern day terms, "Nice guys finish last."

In the second stanza Donne implies that no matter howlong and far one searches, the perfect woman will never be found. He achieves this by comparing finding that woman to a "strange sight" and uses the paradoxical concept of "Things invisible go see." He is telling the reader to go see something invisible, which is obviously impossible and extremely mocking, much like his first stanze. He then says to the reader that he can "Ride ten thousand days and nights" until his hair turns gray but when he comes back, he will tell tales of all the strange wonders that befell thee," but he will not have found a woman that is both true and fair.

Donne's diction mocks that of a fairy tale. By using "ten thousand day and nights" and "snow white." Donne plays with a fairy tale tone in the second stanza, obviously to reflect his telling of an imaginary journey but also to add to his argument that a true and fair female is only found in make-believe stories and tall tales and to find one would be unrealistic.

In the third stanza, Donne shows a slight hint of optimism but quickly recedes back to his cynical state of mind, dismissing women as highly deceptive creatures. He begins by saying to the reader, "If thou find'st one, let me know." If, by any small chance, the perfect woman is to be found, Donne wants to be the first to know because "such a pilgrimage were sweet." Any flash of hope exhibited by Donne quickly dies in the next lines. The reader sees his thinking pattern when he hastily changes his mind - "Yet do not; I would not go." Donne explains that although a true and fair woman was to be found he wishes to take no part in seeing her because from the time she is found to the time it takes to write a letter, she will have slept with two or three men.

Donne goes far enough to say that "Though at next door we might meet", meaning even if she lives right next door, she probably will have been "false" with at least two or three men already. By comparing the time frame of writing a letter to how long it takes for the woman to cheat, Donne displays his extreme lack of faith in the female sex.

By pairing objects that normally would have never been associated together like "a falling star" and "a mandrake root" or "the devil's foot" with the song of mermaids, Donne juxtaposes these conceits and illustrates both the beauty and treachary of women. Also, Donne uses a mocking tone by handing the reader a multitude of impossible tasks and a journey of ten thousand days, all the while knowing the reader will return with nothing. Bitterness is revealed through Donne's diction of blunt commands like "go:, "get", "teach" and "tell". Donne uses metaphysical comparisons to stress the impossibility of finding a "true and fair" woman.
THE UNDERTAKING.
by John Donne


I HAVE done one braver thing
      Than all the Worthies did ; 
And yet a braver thence doth spring, 
      Which is, to keep that hid.

It were but madness now to impart 
      The skill of specular stone, 
When he, which can have learn'd the art 
      To cut it, can find none.

So, if I now should utter this, 
      Others—because no more 
Such stuff to work upon, there is—
      Would love but as before.

But he who loveliness within 
      Hath found, all outward loathes, 
For he who color loves, and skin, 
      Loves but their oldest clothes.

If, as I have, you also do 
      Virtue in woman see,
And dare love that, and say so too, 
      And forget the He and She ;

And if this love, though placèd so, 
      From profane men you hide, 
Which will no faith on this bestow, 
      Or, if they do, deride ;

Then you have done a braver thing 
      Than all the Worthies did ; 
And a braver thence will spring, 
      Which is, to keep that hid.

4-line stanzas in alternating trochaic and iambic tetrameter and trimeter, rhyming abab cdcd, etc..  The poem uses the skin=soul's clothing metaphor to advance the thesis that finding virtue in the shape of one's beloved is rare enough to deserve secrecy to avoid the mockery of profane men.   This makes love a religion (see "Canonization") and the search for love a pilgrimage (see "Good Morrow" and "Song" above).

He starts off by saying that he's done a worthy thing, but it's even better to not brag about it. Then in the second stanza, he says that it's foolish and "madness" to brag about it, because it's much like bragging about having the skill to cut a specular stone when specular stones don't exist anymore.
Then he says that it wouldn't matter if he bragged about because people wouldn't heed what he says and simply go on loving as they have been doing, which is to place more importance on outward appearances than inner virtue.

In the next stanza, he says that a man who loves someone for who they are will not care about outward appearances. Anyone who pays more attention to someone's skin or the color of their skin simply loves the "oldest clothes" of inner virtue, which do not amount to much.

If you love them, despite what anyone else says, and you don't brag about the great deed you've done, then you've done a "braver thing/ Than all the Worthies did."

The Undertaking is in two parts. The first part speaks in general terms and consists of the first four stanzas; this first part has two sub-parts: statement and proof. Donne states (first stanza) that (1) he has done something braver than all the Worthies did and (2) by keeping that something hid, he thereby did something even braver than doing something braver than all the Worthies did. The proof takes two courses, the first of which is contained in the second and third stanzas, and the second of which is contained in the fourth stanza. In the first course of the proof, he examines the fact that he is keeping this something hid, and he makes this examination by means of similitude: uttering this would be as useful as teaching someone how to cut the specular stone. Although the full meaning of this argument depends on the second part of the poem, it will be useful here to examine the correspondences of the terms. “Prophane men” believe that it is just as im- possible to find “vertue” or “lovelinesse” in women as it is to find the specular stone. Thus, teaching a man to love only “lovelinesse within” is just as useless, so most men believe, as imparting the skill of cutting the specular stone. Therefore, even if the poet “should utter this,” men “would love but as before.” Donne’s use of the word “love” moves toward the specific argument involved in the second course of proving. The second course (the fourth stanza) relates to the first part of the statement (the one braver thing than all the Worthies did). The second course of proving has a double argument: the first is an implied contrast between the men who “love but as before” and the man “who lovelinesse within/ Hath found”; the second is a contrast between finding loveliness within and without.

As the poem moves toward the specific, the smoothness of the movement is aided by the subtle shift from “he who” to “you.” The second part of the poem (the last three stanzas) is expressed in one sentence of the syntactic structure the Ramists called “connective axiom.” All connective axioms have two parts: condition and consequent. In this case, the condition (fifth and sixth stanzas) is in two parts: I. if you (a) see virtue attired in women (the metaphor “attir’d” is related to the metaphor “oldest clothes”-seeing virtue in women is related to finding the specular stone) and (b) dare loe that (related to the skill of cutting the specular stone) by (1) admiting it to yourself and (2) forgetting the “He” and “She (related to finding loveliness within and loathing “all outward”); and if you hide this from profane men who (a) would not believe you (for, to them, “no more/ Such stuffe t worke upon, there is), or (b) if they do believe you, would place no value on what you’ve done and are doing (for they love “colour” and skin″). The consequent has two parts. You will then have done (1) a braver thing than the Worthies did, and (2) by keeping it hid, a braver thing than that-for you will be doing something the Worthies didn’t do (keeping their bravery hid). This last stanza has the effect of revealing the complete argument of the poem; its structural correspondence to the vague first stanza increases this effect. Finally, Donne used the third part of rhetoric, elocution, to intensify the visibility and relatability of all parts of a poem.

Although the speaker in John Donne "The Undertaking" has generally been regarded as a straightforward spokesman for the poet, various textual problems in the poem point to an ironic distance between the two. The presence of internal contradictions in the speaker's argument along with his undistinguished use of literary cliché suggest that Donne was deliberately setting up a sententious, Polonious-like character as a target for the laughter and mockery of the knowing sophisticate.

The first three stanzas of the poem approximate a poetic stance that is not unlike that of Donne's other poems. The boasting tone of stanza one modifies a lover's insistent enthusiasm with paradoxical reserve ("I have done one braver thing . . . to keepe that hid."). The speaker then goes on to develop an analogy between specular stone and love, which concludes that describing his love to others would be as pointless as teaching them to cut selenite, because his experience, like the stone is so rare.

The fourth stanza, however, contradicts the analogy, since, in contrast to the previous discussion of the rarity of love, it assumes that anyone who finds "lovelinesse within" is able to find love. Either love is not as rare as selenite, in which case stanzas two and three are preposterous, or else stanza four misrepresents the availability of the experience. This contradiction provides a clear indication of the logical unreliability of the speaker's argument.

Another indication of the ironic distance between poet and speaker can be found in the use of language and literary tradition. Even in the first stanza, long before the later logical contradiction can begin to make the reader wary, the speaker is close to a traditional lover's stance. Although there is a witty juxtaposition between the tone of boasting in line I and that of reserve in 4, the effect of keeping the love hidden is to imitate the practices of the courtly lover of medieval tradition who was forbidden to publicize his love. Even more predictable, however, is the speaker's treatment of "vertue." Woman as "vertue'attir'd" is a commonplace that goes back at least as far as Homer's Arete (whose name meant virtue in the Odyssey, Book 7) and the virtuous woman of Proverbs (31.10-31). Spenser's fifteenth sonnet sounds the typically Elizabethan note:

But that which fairest is, but few behold, her mind adornd with vertues manifold.

It is difficult to believe that Donne would have been satisfied to have his speaker adopt a straightforward echo of this theme unless such talk was designed to reflect [back] on the tedious sententiousness of the persona.

Conventional use of the courtly lover's hiding of his love leads to another contradiction towards the end of the poem. We might assume that the conflict between the speaker's claim that he has kept his brave deed hidden and his public announcement of this in the poem is merely part of the literary tradition. As the poem concludes, however, this paradox recurs with increasingly ridiculous insistence. The speaker asks that the reader-listener dare love virtue attired in woman "and say so too" (19) but immediately thereafter this love must be hidden from "prophane man." The speaker concludes that this apparently simultaneous revelation ("say so too") and hiding (from the profane) is, like his own act, a "braver thing/ Then all the Worthies did," and that this revelation-hiding is itself to be hidden. Even if one were to argue that the reference is to the hiding of the revelation, this is an obvious contradiction of the logical premise ("If . . . you . . . say so . . . Then you have done. . . ."), since once the listener keeps "that hid" he can't "say so." In addition, the final hiding is of the fact that the profane have had the love hidden from them which might suggest the paradoxical revelation of the love only to those who will deride it. In any case, this is the effect of the poem, which, by publishing the speaker's remarks reveals everything to all readers, including the profane.

This combination of conventional use of theme and language, along with various kinds of inner contradictions in the logical development of the speaker's argument, suggests then, an ironic distance between speaker and poet. The logical subtleties and the conventional banalities can be seen as the failings of dramatic character invented by Donne more as an object of scorn than as a serious spokesman for spiritual or Platonic love.

Critics of John Donne's "The Sun Rising" often note that the poem's displacement of the outside world in favor of two lovers' inner world serves to support its overall theme: the centrality of human love amidst a permanent physical universe. In an essay entitled "John Donne," Achsah Guibbory supports this reading of the poem, stating, "The world of love contains everything of value; it is the only one worth exploring and possessing. Hence the microcosmic world of love becomes larger and more important than the macrocosm" (135). "[T]he lovers' room," Toshihiko Kawasaki observes similarly, "is a microcosm because it is private and self-contained, categorically excluding the outer world" (29). As evident in this criticism, Donne's lovers seem to transcend the limits of the physical world by disregarding external influences, coercing all things to rotate around them instead. In Thomas Docherty's words, "[the lovers] become the world and occupy the same position of centrality as the sun. They become, in short, the still point around which all else is supposed to revolve, and around whom all time passes [. . .]" (31). They create a miniature world that is more important than the larger universe within the realm of their bedroom, and their bodies are the gravitational center.

Expanding upon the criticism of this poem in his analysis of Donne's poetry, James S. Baumlin concludes that "The Sun Rising" must not be interpreted literally. Rather, Donne's displacement of the outside world, in favor of the lovers' inside "microcosm," is a rhetorical technique used to argue for the strength and energy of mutual love. "Actually," Baumlin writes,

[. . .] the reader knows that the world does not literally go away, that the sun's orbit does not contract to the bedroom of the lovers; but as one reads, one observes how the beliefs, emotions, and values of the lovers themselves undergo a sea change. Hyperbole may lack the power to change the external physical world; still it changes the private world of the lovers, a world of emotion and experience that proves stubbornly resistant to logic, though marvelously—miraculously—open to language. (241)

Indeed, this analysis is valid if readers assume with Baumlin that while the poem's logic operates inadequately, its rhetoric works "miraculously." But, is the persona's reliance on language to transcend the physical world able to succeed? Or, does the language of "The Sun Rising," like the logic, fail to communicate the theme that many scholars have recognized?

The rhetoric of Donne's persona does seem, upon a first reading, to locate the lovers at the center of the universe successfully while it subordinates all surrounding objects. And the poet's use of hyperbole is convincing enough if readers immediately assume that Donne intended to oppose logic and to define the universe's purpose through the transcendent qualities of language. Yet the inconsistencies in rhetoric that the poem manifests, what one scholar has deemed "a tangle of contradictions and reversals," make this commonly accepted interpretation unstable (Brown 110). While Donne's speaker may dislocate the outside world only for the extent of "The Sun Rising," he is still unsuccessful at convincing critical readers that internal love can symbolically replace the physical world if logic is subordinated to language. The persona establishes several binary oppositions and seems to favor a certain hierarchy within the rhetorical structures he creates. As the poem progresses, however, he begins to misspeak, seemingly forgetting the earlier language of his discourse. Ultimately, the persona's reorganization of language, his attempt to push rhetoric beyond the limits of logic, fails; for, upon condensing the world around his lover and himself, he calls back those objects that he initially excluded. The poem dismantles itself through the inherent contradictions of the persona's rhetoric, leaving the reader unconvinced that language permits love to transcend the outside world.

In the first stanza of "The Sun Rising," Donne's persona creates several binary oppositions that indicate the poem's ultimate but unsuccessful argument: love exists independently from and superior to the physical world. The persona, questioning the sun, asks contentiously,

     Busy old fool, unruly Sun,

The substantial oppositions present in these lines are confinement versus openness and eternity versus momentariness. As for the former, the persona objects to the sun's intrusion "Through windows" and "through curtains." Windows and curtains separate him and his lover from the outside world, from the knowledge that their love exists within a mundane, physical realm. And if the "Busy [and] unruly" sun permeates these modes of exclusion it will undermine his desired confinement, devitalizing his love as it intrudes upon his room. 

His reasoning leads into the other significant opposition of the poem's introduction: eternity / momentariness. The "lovers' seasons" are placed against the sun's seasons, and the persona's disputatious tone suggests his efforts to subordinate everyday, natural motions to ceaseless love. He continues, "Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, / Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time" (9-10). All in all, the introductory stanza of "The Sun Rising" reveals the persona's motive to engage in mutual love within a confined realm that is free from the time constraints of the physical universe. 

While in the first stanza the persona declares the physical world's inferiority to love, he also suggests the social sphere's necessary absence from his microcosm. He rhetorically pushes the sun away, telling it to "go chide / Late schoolboys, and sour prentices, / Go tell court-huntsmen, that the king will ride" (5-7). Indeed, the sun is commanded to seek these individuals because its search will render the persona free from its "motions." Yet he also demands the sun to pursue these people because he knows its "chid[ing]" and "tell[ing]" will keep them away from his room. The first stanza, then, presents a figurative opposition to everything in the outside world—from the sun and the "ants" to children and the king—in order to convince the audience that the language of love is capable of consummating this act (8).

However, the persuasive language of the first stanza begins to break down early in the second stanza, as the persona seems to forget the love ideals that he is seeking. In particular, his celebration of love's eternity versus his condemnation of the outside world's momentariness loses its potency, for he is overtly unable to escape time constraints—even through the use of language. Remarking on the simplicity of escaping the sun's intrusive beams, the persona states, "I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink, / But that I would not lose her sight so long" (13-14). By closing his eyes, he excludes the external world from his internal world of love. This aspect of his rhetoric is still convincing, for readers can understand that the eye acts like the window of the first stanza, separating an internal sphere from an outside sphere; and, the "wink"—the curtain—prevents the sun from intruding. However, readers cannot be convinced that the persona continues to favor (or, can continue to favor) the ideal of love's eternity. The assertion "so long" at the end of line fourteen demonstrates that he is unable to create a language that is independent from the physical world. As he defined it earlier, his internal world of love knows no "hours, days, months, which are the rags of time," but in expressing his fear that closing his eyes would cause him to lose sight of his love for a certain amount of time—for "so long"—he tacitly admits that his microcosm must obey external rules. His inside sphere and the outside world have a "tomorrow late" and a "yesterday," and through admitting this the persona evinces the inability of rhetoric to transcend the physical, momentary world and to exist apart from external influence (16).

The last two lines of the second stanza and the first two lines of the third stanza continue to manifest the persona's language dismantling itself. Besides the eternity / momentariness opposition that breaks down because of the persona's inability to dismiss time constraints from his world of love, lines nineteen and twenty also demonstrate his failure to exclude the social world from his microcosm, an important opposition that he develops in the first stanza. After telling the sun a second time to depart and engage with the social sphere, he comments, "Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday, / And thou shalt hear, all here in one bed lay" (19-20). Whereas earlier the persona commands the sun to leave because he wishes to live with his lover uninfluenced by time (which, as discussed, is an unsuccessful endeavor) and to remain uninterrupted by the outside, social world, here the poet claims that the social sphere is in his bed. 

Perhaps disclosing this weakness of his rhetoric more distinctly, the persona states of his lover and of himself, "She is all states, and all princes, I, / Nothing else is" (21-22). In "John Donne, Undone," Thomas Docherty, comments on the first line of this passage: "Sexual relation fades into commercial relation here, and the female herself becomes mediated as a symbol of the market-place itself, [. . .]" (32). Indeed, the persona follows the putative seventeenth-century social paradigm of female inferiority when he claims that his lover is territory while he is the prince of that territory. Again, he is unable to utilize a language that can transcend the external world; in this instance, a dominant social ideology pervades his rhetoric, and his world of love cannot escape the outside structure once again.

Before the third stanza begins, two of the binary oppositions that the persona establishes in the first stanza have broken down. While he attempts to engage in a convincing discourse on the potency of love, the persona's rhetorical attachments to eternity and to social exclusion work within governing structures that he is unable to avoid; therefore, his argument for these ideals is not firmly grounded. He endeavors to use language in order to assert love's superiority to the external world, but by acknowledging time limitations and the social sphere he ultimately supports the structures that he hopes to undermine. The last stanza of "The Sun Rising" consummates the destruction of his attempt. As previously mentioned, the persona establishes a confinement / openness opposition, favoring to be enclosed within a microcosmic world of love. However, this idea is dismantled when the persona summons everything in the external world to his room: 

      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. (26-30)

Here, the most evident contradiction in the persona's reasoning is his contraction of the external world into his internal world. As noted earlier, he claims that love knows no time and exists independent from external influence. Through this assertion, the persona confines himself and his lover willingly, expelling the sun and rejecting the cultural sphere with the notion that his love surpasses these aspects of the physical world. Yet the buttress of his final argument, which he presents syllogistically, is the assumption that his microcosmic world of love is the whole world. In lines twenty-seven and twenty-eight the persona reasons that since the sun is obligated to illuminate the world, it must shine on him and his lover; thus, he thinks that his microcosm is everything. His bed, he asserts in the final line, is the center of the universe; his walls are its borders. 

The persona's argument ends with the assumption that the entire physical world occupies his microcosm. He and his lover are the center of this new sphere, and their love transcends the physical limitations of the outside world. But upon critical analysis, this rhetoric is unconvincing. He brings openness into his closed world, implicitly subverting his ideal to remain isolated from outside influence. Throughout the progression of "The Sun Rising," Donne's persona has made claims that undoubtedly break down as he continues to speak. In the final instance, the confinement that he favors in his internal world of love, as opposed to the openness of the macrocosm, is undermined because he insists that the external world exists within his microcosm. Ultimately, the persona's attempt to utilize a language that will communicate love's transcendent qualities is a failure—not a "sudden creative power" as Lisa Gorton asserts with other critics—because the structures that he hopes to escape are inherently incorporated in that language (par. 17). He tries to embrace the ideals of eternity, social solitariness, and confinement; however, in this verbal enterprise, he incorporates the ideas that he is reacting against into his rhetoric. As a result, his argument loses force—his language is unsuccessful. 

Lying in bed with his lover, the speaker chides the rising sun, calling it a “busy old fool,” and asking why it must bother them through windows and curtains. Love is not subject to season or to time, he says, and he admonishes the sun—the “Saucy pedantic wretch”—to go and bother late schoolboys and sour apprentices, to tell the court-huntsmen that the King will ride, and to call the country ants to their harvestingWhy should the sun think that his beams are strong? The speaker says that he could eclipse them simply by closing his eyes, except that he does not want to lose sight of his beloved for even an instant. He asks the sun—if the sun’s eyes have not been blinded by his lover’s eyes—to tell him by late tomorrow whether the treasures of India are in the same place they occupied yesterday or if they are now in bed with the speaker. He says that if the sun asks about the kings he shined on yesterday, he will learn that they all lie in bed with the speaker.

The speaker explains this claim by saying that his beloved is like every country in the world, and he is like every king; nothing else is real. Princes simply play at having countries; compared to what he has, all honor is mimicry and all wealth is alchemy. The sun, the speaker says, is half as happy as he and his lover are, for the fact that the world is contracted into their bed makes the sun’s job much easier—in its old age, it desires ease, and now all it has to do is shine on their bed and it shines on the whole world. “This bed thy centre is,” the speaker tells the sun, “these walls, thy sphere.”

Form

Commentary

Accordingly, Donne endows his speaker with language implying that what goes on in his head is primary over the world outside it; for instance, in the second stanza, the speaker tells the sun that it is not so powerful, since the speaker can cause an eclipse simply by closing his eyes. This kind of heedless, joyful arrogance is perfectly tuned to the consciousness of a new lover, and the speaker appropriately claims to have all the world’s riches in his bed (India, he says, is not where the sun left it; it is in bed with him). The speaker captures the essence of his feeling in the final stanza, when, after taking pity on the sun and deciding to ease the burdens of his old age, he declares “Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere.”

in this poem, the narrator was travelling to a foreign country on a personal trip. It was only quite natural that his wife would be anxious to know. He assured her that he did not undertake this journey simply because he had grown tired of her nor because he had found a new love in a foreign country, which he considered worthier than her. However the fact of the matter was that one fine day, death would separate them eternally. So starting as of now, she should train herself to get use to this eternal separation. In this way his regular journey abroad would be the frequent rehearsals of death which would eventually lessen her suffering of his real death.

After he conveyed his love and passion, he boldly encouraged her to bid him good luck on his journey abroad and to console herself by acknowledging the fact that the bond between true lovers is united by a match made in Heaven; where only the bodies separates and not the hearts. In this context, Donne’s poem can also be called a fine example of metaphysical poetry as he talks of love as an emotion which goes beyond the physical. At the end of the poem, Donne has managed to convince his point of view to his beloved lady and by doing so he has managed to assure and reaffirm her of his true love.

This is a demanding poem, which discusses various theories about love. However, it is very clever and well worth the effort. There are two main difficulties:

• 
  Donne uses ideas about angels and incarnation which would have been familiar to the Elizabethans but not necessarily to us.
  

• 
  Donne draws on the idea that there is an inequality between men's and women's love. This discussion has been going on for centuries, but until the last two centuries, women's voices were virtually never heard. That meant that male opinions predominated and male love was often presented as superior. Today this may sound very sexist. However, we need to look carefully at what Donne is actually saying here.