John Donne. One cannot go out of an English class without studying at least one of his pieces… most influential and popular of all is “The Flea”. I would have to say, even though most times authors do not take the form of the narrator… in this case, I am going to assume he is taking form of the narrator, because he seems like a lady’s man/jerk to me. It is interesting how he is the only one of his family to leave the Catholic faith. His father was a very prominent Catholic and his mother as well. His sister on the other hand died for her faith, leaving her known as a martyr. John fought along side with Sir Walter Raleigh and the Earl of Essex against the Spanish at Cadiz. It is not surprising however, that Donne suffered from depression. I believe all this, the political pressure, the religious pressure, the fact his sister died for her faith, and he fought in a war is no doubt the reason of his depression and falling out of the Catholic faith. As in his poem “The Flea” the theme that dominates the piece is live today like it is your last for tomorrow may never come, and we are all pretty much the same thing, so why not do what is forbidden (the flea has sucked your blood and now mine, our blood is already mingled so whatever we do, sexually, it will not be the first). He had the power of persuasion; the kind where one starts off knowing that he has no clue what he is talking about, but then he sounds like he is making sense, but really is contradicting himself, but you don’t notice cause of his particular words he has chosen and thus you are persuaded.
THE FLEA.
by John Donne
MARK but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is ;
It suck'd me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be.
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead ;
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pamper'd swells with one blood made of two ;
And this, alas ! is more than we would do.
O 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're met,
And cloister'd 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 suck'd from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st, and say'st that thou
Find'st not thyself nor me the weaker now.
'Tis true ; then learn how false fears be ;
Just so much honour, when thou yield'st to me,
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.
I'm also a fan of John Donne :). One of my favorite poems is his poem "Death"
Death, be not proud, though some have called 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 but thy picture be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow;
and soonest our best men with thee do go-
Rest of their bones and souls' delivery!
Thou'rt 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!
Pauperes Commilitones Christi Templique Salomonis
Oooo how gorgoeous... I love it. Thank you for sharing.
Sincerely,
Ashleymarie Sey DeBondt
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