Rhiannon
07-24-2003, 06:13 AM
John Donne meets Lewis Carroll. In my little Thrift edition of 'John Donne- Selected Poems', I found that the alphabetical list of first lines in the back, when read as a poem itself, made a bizarre kind of sense.
It was roughly 2am when I discovered this.
Some examples:
A
All kings, and all their favouritews
As due by many titles I resign
As virtuous men pass mildly away
At the round earth's imagined corners, blow
Away thou fondling motley humorist
B
Batter my heart, three-personed God; for, you
Blasted with sighs, surrounded with tears
Busy old fool, unruly sun
By our first strange and fatal interview
C
Come live with me, and be my love
Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy
H
Hail Bishop Valentine, whose day this is
He is stark mad, whoever says
N
No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace
Now thou hast loved me one whole day
T
This is my play's last scene, here heavens appoint
This twilight of two years, not past nor next
Though hast made me, and shall thy work decay?
Thou in the fields walkst out thy supping hours
Thou which art I, ('tis nothing to be so)
'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's
'Tis true, 'tis day; what though it be?
Twice or thrice had I loved thee
Okay, yes, I am much too easily entertained. But I was greatly amused by this.
It was roughly 2am when I discovered this.
Some examples:
A
All kings, and all their favouritews
As due by many titles I resign
As virtuous men pass mildly away
At the round earth's imagined corners, blow
Away thou fondling motley humorist
B
Batter my heart, three-personed God; for, you
Blasted with sighs, surrounded with tears
Busy old fool, unruly sun
By our first strange and fatal interview
C
Come live with me, and be my love
Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy
H
Hail Bishop Valentine, whose day this is
He is stark mad, whoever says
N
No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace
Now thou hast loved me one whole day
T
This is my play's last scene, here heavens appoint
This twilight of two years, not past nor next
Though hast made me, and shall thy work decay?
Thou in the fields walkst out thy supping hours
Thou which art I, ('tis nothing to be so)
'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's
'Tis true, 'tis day; what though it be?
Twice or thrice had I loved thee
Okay, yes, I am much too easily entertained. But I was greatly amused by this.