The Canonization
John Donne
1572 to 1631
Track 1
Reconstruct the poem by dragging each line into its correct position. Your goal is to reassemble the original poem as accurately as possible. As you move the lines, you'll see whether your arrangement is correct, helping you explore the poem's flow and meaning. You can also print out the jumbled poem to cut up and reassemble in the classroom. Either way, take your time, enjoy the process, and discover how the poet's words come together to create something truly beautiful.
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For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love,
You, to whom love was peace, that now is rage;
Into the glasses of your eyes
The phoenix riddle hath more wit
The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs,
Call her one, me another fly,
Or the king's real, or his stampèd face
Call us what you will, we are made such by love;
Who did the whole world's soul contract, and drove
When did my colds a forward spring remove?
Contemplate; what you will, approve,
Made one another's hermitage;
We'll build in sonnets pretty rooms;
Or chide my palsy, or my gout,
Countries, towns, courts: beg from above
That they did all to you epitomize)
Mysterious by this love.
And we in us find the eagle and the dove.
(So made such mirrors, and such spies,
We die and rise the same, and prove
And by these hymns, all shall approve
We're tapers too, and at our own cost die,
Who says my tears have overflowed his ground?
Litigious men, which quarrels move,
Soldiers find wars, and lawyers find out still
Add one more to the plaguy bill?
What merchant's ships have my sighs drowned?
And if no piece of chronicle we prove,
Observe his honor, or his grace,
We can die by it, if not live by love,
So you will let me love.
So, to one neutral thing both sexes fit.
By us; we two being one, are it.
Us canonized for Love.
And if unfit for tombs and hearse
As well a well-wrought urn becomes
Though she and I do love.
And thus invoke us: "You, whom reverend love
Take you a course, get you a place,
Our legend be, it will be fit for verse;
With wealth your state, your mind with arts improve,
Alas, alas, who's injured by my love?
When did the heats which my veins fill
My five gray hairs, or ruined fortune flout,
A pattern of your love!"