John Donne

A Nocturnal upon St. Lucy’s Day

Tis the year’s midnight, and it is the day’s,

Lucy’s, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks;

The sun is spent, and now his flasks

Send forth light squibs, no constant rays;

The world’s whole sap is sunk;

The general balm th’ hydroptic earth hath drunk,

Whither, as to the bed’s feet, life is shrunk,

Dead and interr’d; yet all these seem to laugh,

Compar’d with me, who am their epitaph.

Study me then, you who shall lovers be

At the next world, that is, at the next spring;

For I am every dead thing,

In whom Love wrought new alchemy.

For his art did express

A quintessence even from nothingness,

From dull privations, and lean emptiness;

He ruin’d me, and I am re-begot

Of absence, darkness, death: things which are not.

All others, from all things, draw all that’s good,

Life, soul, form, spirit, whence they being have;

I, by Love’s limbec, am the grave

Of all that’s nothing. Oft a flood

Have we two wept, and so

Drown’d the whole world, us two; oft did we grow

To be two chaoses, when we did show

Care to aught else; and often absences

Withdrew our souls, and made us carcasses.

But I am by her death (which word wrongs her)

Of the first nothing the elixir grown;

Were I a man, that I were one

I needs must know; I should prefer,

If I were any beast,

Some ends, some means; yea plants, yea stones detest,

And love; all, all some properties invest;

If I an ordinary nothing were,

As shadow, a light and body must be here.

But I am none; nor will my sun renew.

You lovers, for whose sake the lesser sun

At this time to the Goat is run

To fetch new lust, and give it you,

Enjoy your summer all;

Since she enjoys her long night’s festival,

Let me prepare towards her, and let me call

This hour her vigil, and her eve, since this

Both the year’s, and the day’s deep midnight is.

5 thoughts on “John Donne”

It’s lovely. He’s my favourite poet. 🙂

BB, any particular reason for this revelation?

Thank you, for comment, Ana. He is one of my favourites, as well 🙂
Janus, I just find it incredibly atmospheric and evocative. Donne has a way of turning things upside down and inside out so that what was miniscule suddenly expands, or, as in this poem, what was dead suddenly reverses into life and light. This was when science – or alchemy – was completely redefining the parametres of the physical world, and Donne always makes me feel as if anything could be possible; the universe in a tiny speck of nothing; gold from base metal, or life from death. And I suppose our digital revolution is comparable to their scientific one, in the way that it has redefined the physical world to incorporate the virtual one.
Was posted the day after St Lucy’s Day… but better late than never. 🙂