Love's War by John Donne (1633)

Name: Love's War
Author: John Donne

A speaker addresses a personified city or love, declaring that he will make war on other men only until he has peace with "thee," and questions whether, once at peace, he could ever leave. He contrasts this private struggle with several ongoing wars of the world. He notes that all other wars are scrupulous, or morally uncertain, while only this "free fair city" may allow herself to anyone. In Flanders, no one can tell whether the master presses his men or the men rebel; only the common, seemingly foolish observation holds true, that it is those caught in the middle who bear the blows meant to part the combatants. France, in her recent lunatic giddiness, has hated both the speaker's countrymen and their God, yet she still relies upon their "angels," a play on English coin, which never return any more than the soldiers who died do. Sick Ireland is possessed by a strange war, like an intermittent fever, now raging, now at rest, which only time can cure, though it would also benefit her to be purged and bled at the head-vein. Spanish ventures bring a Midas-like joy, since the men touch gold but find no food to sustain them, and the speaker imagines that in that hot, parching climate he would be turned to dust and ashes before his time. He rejects being confined on a ship, calling it enthrallment in a prison likely to fall, and rejects a cloister too, except that men there dwell in a calm heaven while a ship is a swaying hell. Long voyages, he says, are long consumptions, and ships are carts carrying men to their execution; such voyages are deaths, for flying into another world is no different from dying. Turning back to his beloved, he asks to make his war here instead, lying in her arms, where he may parley, batter, bleed, and die. Her arms imprison him, and his arms imprison her; her heart is his ransom, and he offers his own heart in exchange. Other men go to war so that they may afterward gain rest, but the two lovers will rest so that they may fight again. Ignorant men love those distant wars, while experienced men love this one; in those wars combatants are always at a disadvantage, underneath, while here the lovers are above. There, engines striking from far off breed a just and true fear; here, near thrusts, pikes, stabs, and even bullets do no harm. There, lies constitute wrongs; here the lovers lie safely and uprightly. There men kill men; here the two of them will instead make one person by and by. The speaker reflects that he alone amounts to nothing, and even the two of them together will not accomplish half so much in those distant wars as the offspring who may spring from their union will accomplish. He observes that thousands of men do not travel to war but instead stay home, keeping their swords, arms, and shot to use there instead. He asks whether he, too, shall not perform a more glorious service by staying to make men.

By John Donne · First published 1633 · Genre: Poetry, Metaphysical Poetry, Love Poetry · 607 words

First lines

Till I have peace with thee, war other men, / And when I have peace, can I leave thee then? / All other wars are scrupulous; only thou / O free fair city, mayst thyself allow / To anyone. In Flanders, who can tell / Whether the master press, or men rebel? / Only we know, that which most idiots say, / They must bear blows which come to part the fray. / France in her lunatic giddiness did hate / Ever our men, yea, and our God, of late; / Yet she relies upon our angels well, / Which ne'er return, no more than they which fell. / Sick Ireland is with a strange war possest, / Like to an ague, now raging, now at rest, / Which time will cure; yet it must do her good / If she were purg'd, and her head-vein let blood; / And Midas joys our Spanish journeys give; / We touch all gold, but find no food to live; / And I should be in that hot parching clime / To dust and ashes turned before my time. / To mew me in a ship is to enthral / Me in a prison that were like to fall; / Or in a cloister, save that there men dwell / In a calm heaven, here in a swaying hell. / Long voyages are long consumptions, / And ships are carts for executions; / Yea, they are deaths; is 't not all one to fly / Into another world, as 'tis to die? / Here let me war; in these arms let me lie: / Here let me parley, batter, bleed, and die. / Thine arms imprison me, and my arms thee; / Thy heart thy ransom is; take mine for me. / Other men war, that they their rest may gain, / But we will rest that we may fight again. / Those wars th' ignorant, these th' experienced love; / There we are always under, here above. / There engines far off breed a just true fear; / Near thrusts, pikes, stabs, yea, bullets, hurt not here. / There lies are wrongs; here safe uprightly lie. / There men kill men; we'll make one by and by. / Thou nothing, I not half so much shall do / In those wars, as they may which from us two / Shall spring. Thousands we see which travel not / To war, but stay, swords, arms, and shot / To make at home; and shall not I do then / More glorious service, staying to make men?

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Love's War is listed on Textopian as a poem by John Donne, dated 1633 CE.

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Work type: Poem
Author: John Donne
Date: 1633 CE
Language: English
Genres: Poetry, Metaphysical Poetry, Love Poetry, Erotic Poetry, War Poetry
Length: 607 words
Structure: 1 section, 1 paragraphs
Reading fit: Easy (6th Grade)

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Genres

Poetry — A poem composed in verse form with structured language, rhyme scheme, and poetic devices as its fundamental medium.
Metaphysical Poetry — Exemplifies John Donne's metaphysical school through elaborate conceits connecting disparate realms of love and military warfare with intellectual wit and philosophical complexity.
Love Poetry — Centers on romantic and erotic attraction, exploring the intensity and nature of intimate relationship between the speaker and his beloved.
Erotic Poetry — Contains explicit sensual and sexual imagery, describing physical intimacy through metaphors of military conquest, imprisonment, and passionate physical engagement.