Hail Bishop Valentine

[poliphilo]

Hail Bishop Valentine, whose day this is,
All the air is thy diocese,
And all the chirping choristers
And other birds are thy parishioners,
Thou marriest each year
The lyric lark and the grave whispering dove,
The sparrow that neglects his life for love,
The household bird with the red stomacher,
Thou mak'st the black bird speed as soon
As doth the goldfinch or the halcyon;
The husband cock looks out and straight is sped
And meets his wife, which brings her feather bed.
This day more cheerfully than ever shine,
This day which might enflame thyself, old Valentine.

John Donne.

Comments

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

He's damn good, isn't he?

There's no English poet with such a gift for rocking you back on your heels with his startling conjunctions.

"All the air is your diocese"- I mean, that's just so bloody brilliant!

[bodhibird.livejournal.com]

I can tell you that the old tradition of birds choosing their mates on this day is pretty accurate. In my region, at least, birds *do* start to think about mating as early as February. I saw a couple of mockingbirds fighting for territory the other day.

"All the air is your diocese--" I think I read this poem in college but had forgotten about it, much as I love Donne.

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

It's a line that stuck in my head.

There's another further on in the poem where he talks about the attendants fussing around the bride "as though they were to take a clock in pieces".