POETRY + ESSAYS + MUSIC + TRAVEL + FICTION + TEXTILE ART
For many years I have known the line: "Come live with me and be my love"; only recently did I learn that it is contained, or referred to, in at least three poems in the English Language, all written in the 16th Century: "The Pasionate Sheepheard To His Love" by Chirstopher Marlowe -- 1589?, "The Nimphs Reply To The Sheepheard" by Sir Walter Ralegh -- 1590?, "The Baite" by John Donne -- 1595?. I must have thought it was all one poem, or, meeting different versions of it, that I didn't remember it too well. How then, upon discovering its tri-nature, could I resist adding to this Trio and making it a Quartet of Quatrains in Tetrameter for my Poetic Forms Used In English collection?
Therefore, below, in chronological order, are variations by Marlowe, Ralegh, Donne and Haag. Lest this sound presumptious, be it noted: I think those guys were having just as much fun as I had in writing, not one, but two versions. The version below, has not only used the exact scansion of Donne, but uses, in the same locations he did, each of his either archaic, "poetic", or contracted words. The version available as #288, Iambic Tetrameter Quatrains is a wee bit looser, but still obeys the as-exact-as-can-be scansion of Donne's BAITE.
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Come live with me, and be my love, and we will outside pleasures move to golden lands and sacred nooks which seem alive, but just in books. There will we honor whispering sun, bright evening light, maybe what's done in flame, the'inamor'd sunset's ray fending the cold, while fish delay. Surface world's yet do play God's wrath though brooks are still beside the path where birds are mute and silence grim, luteless, you hide behind the scrim. Do not reveal, but be'est both in angels, Gods who dark'nest, loath offenses washed by laws, or sea through which life swims free, fine, sans fee. Among the weeds, reprieve re-seeds; a veil to all its pow'r impedes the treacherously negated debt, the opaline and windowie jet. With breath comes death, eternal rest; the greeds do die, and are confessed as curious traitors, lying cries for those too shy, with wand'ring sighs. Come be with me, I am your gate beyond, beneath, by which reads fate, all glory fires have caught my eye, my love, my sacred wise one, I. |
Jan Haag may be reached via e-mail: jhaag@janhaag.com or jhaag@u.washington.edu
Ralegh's THE NIMPHS REPLY TO THE SHEEPHEARD -- 1590?
Donne's THE BAITE -- 1595?
Haag's DEVAYANI, -- 1998
alternate version
POETRY +
MUSIC +
ESSAYS +
TRAVEL +
FICTION +
TEXTILE ART