Perhaps best known for the religious themes in his poetry, John Donne (1572-1631) also wrote many love poems. Although the mathematics here includes only numbers, they are well-used to strengthen both the intensity and the precision of the work.
The Primrose  by John Donne
Upon this Primrose hill, 
Where, if heaven would distill 
A shower of rain, each several drop might go 
To his own primrose, and grow manna so; 
And where their form, and their infinity 
Make a terrestrial galaxy, 
As the small stars do in the sky; 
I walk to find a true love; and I see 
That 'tis not a mere woman, that is she, 
But must or more or less than woman be. 
Yet know I not, which flower 
I wish; a six, or four; 
For should my true-love less than woman be, 
She were scarce anything; and then, should she 
Be more than woman, she would get above 
All thought of sex, and think to move 
My heart to study her, and not to love. 
Both these were monsters; since there must reside 
Falsehood in woman, I could more abide, 
She were by art, than nature falsified. 
Live, primrose, then, and thrive 
With thy true number five; 
And, woman, whom this flower doth represent, 
With this mysterious number be content; 
Ten is the farthest number; if half ten 
Belongs to each woman, then 
Each woman may take half us men; 
Or—if this will not serve their turn—since all 
Numbers are odd, or even, and they fall 
First into five, women may take us all.
Two additional love poems by Donne--"Love's Growth" and "The Computation" are collected in the anthology Strange Attractors:  Poems of Love and Mathematics (A K Peters, 2008), edited by Sarah Glaz and JoAnne Growney.  Donne's complete works also are available online.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
John Donne's numbers
Labels:
A K Peters,
John Donne,
love poem,
number,
precision,
Strange Attractors
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
 
 
 
 Posts
Posts
 
 

It was John Donne's "A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning" that first introduced me to the possible merging of math and poetry:
ReplyDelete...
If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th' other do.
And though it in the centre sit,
Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.
Thanks for the pleasant reminder!
Hi, Charlotte--
ReplyDeleteThanks for visiting the blog--and special thanks for your posting; it is one of my favorites.
JoAnne