> > OK, here's the poem. It's by John Donne. He was extremely sexist, but I like his poetry, so
> > have convinced myself that his sexism was a sort of tongue-in-cheek humour. ;)
>
> I think it *was* tongue-in-cheek humour. He was very good at that sort of thing.
> One of my other favourite Donne poems is "The Flea", in which the poet spins a line of clever rubbish to convince his lady love to consummate their relationship, on the grounds that it's more or less been consummated already.
>
> "Song" is my very favourite Donne poem, though. I first came across it in a fantasy novel where somebody uses it to set a curse on the hero.
>
> Paul


I actually think "The Flea" is my favorite. It's bookmarked in my copy of his selected works. I'm sure that this one is tongue-in-cheek. How could he possibly be serious? I was going to post this one too, but when no one replied to the first poem :( I decided I must be the only Donne fan. :) But now that I have an ally:

The Flea, by John Donne

Marke but this flea, and marke in this,
How little that which thou deny'st me is;
It suck'd me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea, our two bloods mingled bee;
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sinne, nor shame, nor losse of maidenhead,
Yet this enjoyes before it wooe,
And pamper'd swells with one blood made of two,
And this, alas, is more than wee would doe.

Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where wee almost, yea more than maryed are,
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is;
Though parents grudge, and you, w'are met,
And cloystered in these living walls of Jet.
Though use makes you apt to kill mee,
Let not to that, selfe murder added bee,
And sacrilege, three sinnes in killing three.

Cruell and sodaine, hast thou since
Purpled thy naile, in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty bee,
Except that drop which it suckt from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st, and saist that thou
Find'st not thy selfe, nor mee the weaker now;
'Tis true, then learne how false, fears bee;
Just so much honor, when thou yeeld'st to mee,
Will wast, as this flea's death tooke life from thee.