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The ecstacy - John Donne

Where, like a pillow on a bed 

         A pregnant bank swell'd up to rest 

The violet's reclining head, 

         Sat we two, one another's best. 

Our hands were firmly cemented 

         With a fast balm, which thence did spring; 

Our eye-beams twisted, and did thread 

         Our eyes upon one double string; 

So to'intergraft our hands, as yet 

         Was all the means to make us one, 

And pictures in our eyes to get 

         Was all our propagation. 

As 'twixt two equal armies fate 

         Suspends uncertain victory, 

Our souls (which to advance their state 

         Were gone out) hung 'twixt her and me. 

And whilst our souls negotiate there, 

         We like sepulchral statues lay; 

All day, the same our postures were, 

         And we said nothing, all the day. 

If any, so by love refin'd 

         That he soul's language understood, 

And by good love were grown all mind, 

         Within convenient distance stood, 

He (though he knew not which soul spake, 

         Because both meant, both spake the same) 

Might thence a new concoction take 

         And part far purer than he came. 

This ecstasy doth unperplex

         We said, and tell us what we love; 

We see by this it was not sex, 

         We see we saw not what did move; 

But as all several souls contain 

         Mixture of things, they know not what, 

Love these mix'd souls doth mix again 

         And makes both one, each this and that. 

A single violet transplant, 

         The strength, the colour, and the size, 

(All which before was poor and scant) 

         Redoubles still, and multiplies. 

When love with one another so 

         Interinanimates two souls, 

That abler soul, which thence doth flow, 

         Defects of loneliness controls. 

We then, who are this new soul, know 

         Of what we are compos'd and made, 

For th' atomies of which we grow 

         Are souls, whom no change can invade. 

But oh alas, so long, so far, 

         Our bodies why do we forbear? 

They'are ours, though they'are not we; we are 

         The intelligences, they the spheres. 

We owe them thanks, because they thus 

         Did us, to us, at first convey, 

Yielded their senses' force to us, 

         Nor are dross to us, but allay. 

On man heaven's influence works not so, 

         But that it first imprints the air; 

So soul into the soul may flow, 

            Though it to body first repair. 

As our blood labors to beget 

         Spirits, as like souls as it can, 

Because such fingers need to knit 

         That subtle knot which makes us man, 

So must pure lovers' souls descend 

         T' affections, and to faculties, 

Which sense may reach and apprehend, 

         Else a great prince in prison lies. 

To'our bodies turn we then, that so 

         Weak men on love reveal'd may look; 

Love's mysteries in souls do grow, 

         But yet the body is his book. 

And if some lover, such as we, 

         Have heard this dialogue of one, 

Let him still mark us, he shall see 

         Small change, when we'are to bodies gone



The poem The Ecstasy is one of John Donne's most popular poems, which expresses his unique and unconventional ideas about love. It expounds the theme that pure, spiritual or real love can exist only in the bond of souls established by the bodies. For Donne, true love only exists when both bodies and souls are inextricably united. Donne criticizes the platonic lover who excludes the body and emphasizes the soul.

The poet begins the narration of the event with a typically passionate scene as the backdrop for the lovers to embrace and experience the 'ecstasy'. The setting is natural, very calm and quiet. The scenery is described in erotic terms: the riverbank is "like a pillow on a bed"; it also is "pregnant". The reference to pillow, bed and pregnancy suggest sexuality, though the poet says that their love is 'asexual'. Indeed, the image of asexual reproduction of the violent plant is used to compare the lovers' only 'propagation'. It is springtime, and violets are in bloom. To a Renaissance reader, the image of violets symbolizes faithful love and truth. It is pastoral settings were lovers are sitting together, holding each others hand and looking intently into each other's eyes. Their eyes meet and reflect the images of each other, and their sights are woven together. They get a kind of sensation within their hearts and blood, resulting in perspiration and blushing. They become ecstatic because their souls have escaped from their bodies to rise to a state of bliss. When love joins two souls, they mingle with each other and give birth to a new and finer soul, which removes the defects and supplies whatever is lacking in either single soul. The new re-animated soul made up of their two separate souls gives them the ecstasy. But they cannot forget the body, which is the vehicle, and container, cover and house of the soul.

The lovers' souls leave their bodies, which become mere lifeless figures. Finally, they are united into a single soul. Donne tries to convey the readers that the foundation of spiritual love is the physical attachment; the eyes serve as a gateway to the soul.


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