dual personalities

Tag: John Donne

Come to rifle Satan’s fold

by chuckofish

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Twas much,
that man was
made like God before,
But that God should
be like man
much more

–John Donne (1572-1631)

Lest we forget.

This little babe, so few days old,
Is come to rifle Satan’s fold;
All hell doth at his presence quake.
Though he himself for cold do shake,
For in this weak unarmèd wise
The gates of hell he will surprise. 

With tears he fights and wins the field;
His naked breast stands for a shield;
His battering shot are babish cries,
His arrows looks of weeping eyes,
His martial ensigns cold and need,
And feeble flesh his warrior’s steed. 

His camp is pitchèd in a stall,
His bulwark but a broken wall,
The crib his trench, hay stalks his stakes,
Of shepherds he his muster makes;
And thus, as sure his foe to wound,
The angels’ trumps alarum sound. 

My soul, with Christ join thou in fight;
Stick to the tents that he hath pight;
Within his crib is surest ward,
This little babe will be thy guard.
If thou wilt foil thy foes with joy,
Then flit not from this heavenly boy.

Christmas vacation is coming to an end. Sigh. It’s back to work on Tuesday. Still can’t believe how 2017 raced by. Here’s hoping you foil thy foes with joy in 2018.

Two better hemispheres

by chuckofish

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The Good-Morrow

I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then?
But sucked 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 mixed equally;
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I
Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.

 

–John Donne

I am off for a week of wedding merry-making! Check back next week for photos of the Big Day.  L’chaim!

“God, the best maker of all marriages,
Combine your hearts in one.”
—King Henry V, Act V

For it’s root, root, root for the home team

by chuckofish

I know you’ve been wondering if my spy was down in Florida this year scoping out the Cardinals…

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…and taking pictures of Big Mike for me. Well, yes, he was.

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Good job. Much appreciated!

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Our season finally opens on Sunday against those Cubs. It’s about time!

Meanwhile, hopefully we’ll see our adorable grandkids this weekend, no doubt sporting new redbird outfits.

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(The little guy doesn’t look so sure about joining his sis at home. It was quiet in the NICU.)

I will otherwise be engaged in recovering from last weekend and this week at work. How about you?

Have a good weekend. Onward to April!

Almighty God, the root and fountain of all being: Open our eyes to see, with thy servant John Donne, that whatsoever hath any being is a mirror in which we may behold thee; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

(Collect for John Donne, 1631, who is commemorated today on the Episcopal calendar)

For whom the bell tolls

by chuckofish

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Yesterday the poet and Anglican priest John Donne (1572 – 31 March 1631) was commemorated on the Episcopal calendar. He is one of England’s finest poets and was one of the best-known preachers of his day.

When all is done, the hell of hells, the torment of torments, is the everlasting absence of God, and the everlasting impossibility of returning to his presence…to fall out of the hands of the living God, is a horror beyond our expression, beyond our imagination…. What Tophet is not Paradise, what Brimstone is not Amber, what gnashing is not a comfort, what gnawing of the worme is not a tickling, what torment is not a marriage bed to this damnation, to be secluded eternally, eternally, eternally from the sight of God?

–From a sermon to the Earl of Carlisle in 1622

He is known equally for his love poetry:

Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines, and silver hooks.

and his metaphysical verse:

No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thy friend’s
Or of thine own were:
Any man’s death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.

I suggest you take some time today and read some John Donne. You’ll be glad you did.

“I am two fools, I know,
For loving, and for saying so
In whining poetry;
But where’s that wiseman, that would not be I,
If she would not deny?
Then as th’ earth’s inward narrow crooked lanes
Do purge sea water’s fretful salt away,
I thought, if I could draw my pains
Through rhyme’s vexation, I should them allay.
Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce,
For he tames it, that fetters it in verse.

But when I have done so,
Some man, his art and voice to show,
Doth set and sing my pain;
And, by delighting many, frees again
Grief, which verse did restrain.
To love and grief tribute of verse belongs,
But not of such as pleases when ’tis read.
Both are increased by such songs,
For both their triumphs so are published,
And I, which was two fools, do so grow three;
Who are a little wise, the best fools be.”

― John Donne

Almighty God, the root and fountain of all being: Open our eyes to see, with thy servant John Donne, that whatsoever hath any being is a mirror in which we may behold thee; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.