Nicole Hurley-Moore: Valentine's Day

Hi everyone,

Valentine’s Day is almost upon us and our thoughts turn to romance (except mine because honestly my thoughts never really left). So to celebrate the day of love I thought I would do a romantic post. At first I thought about listing fabulous lines from books and plays that make you melt and sigh like – ‘You have witchcraft in your lips’ (Henry V, Act 5 Scene 2) or ‘Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.’(Wuthering Heights) or ‘Soul meets soul on lovers' lips.’(Prometheus Unbound).

But then I thought I’d share one of my favourite poems from the fabulous John Donne. I’ve always loved this poem, I find it passionate, sweet and kind of sexy. So here’s a toast to the comforting thought that love and lust are little changed through the centuries.

To His Mistress Going To Bed

    Come, madam, come, all rest my powers defie,
Until I labour, I in labour lie.
The foe oft-times, having the foe in sight,
Is tired with standing, though he never fight.
Off with that girdle, like heaven's Zone glistering,
But a far fairer world encompassing.
Unpin that spangled breast-plate, which you wear,
That th' eyes of busie fooles may be stopt there.
Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime,
Tells me from you that now ‘tis your bed-time.
Off with that happy busk, whom I envie,
That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
Your gowne’s going off, such beautious state reveals,
As when from flowery meads th' hill's shadow steals.
Off with your wyerie Coronet, and shew
The haiery Diademe which on you doth grow;
Off with those shooes, and then safely tread
In this love's hallow'd temple, this soft bed.
In such white robes, heaven's Angels us’d to be
Receav’d by men ; Thou Angel, bringst with thee
A heaven like Mahomet's Paradise; and though
Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know,
By this these Angels from an evil sprite,
They set our hairs, but these the flesh upright.
   Licence my roaving hands, and let them go,
Behind, before, above, between, below.
O, my America! my new-found-land,
My kingdome, safeliest when with one man man'd,
My Myne of precious stones, my Emperie,
How blest am I in this discovering thee !
To enter into these bonds, is to be free;
Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be.
    Full nakedness ! All joyes are due to thee;
As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth’d must be,
To taste whole joyes. Gems which you women use
Are as Atlanta's ball, cast in mens views,
That when a fools 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 onely wee
(Whom their imputed grace will dignifie)
Must see reveal'd. Then since I may know;
As liberally, as to a Midwife shew
Thy self ; cast all, yea, this white lynnen hence,
Here is no penance, much less innocence.
To teach thee, I am naked first: why then
What needst thou have more covering than a man?

John Donne 1572-1631