This week’s poem “The Dream” is by John Donne, and it expresses the joy of love and the fear of unworthiness.
Thou art so true that thoughts of thee suffice
John Donne (1572—1631)
To make dreams truths, and fables histories;
Poem 421. The Dream
Dear love, for nothing less than thee
Would I have broke this happy dream;
It was a theme
For reason, much too strong for fantasy,
Therefore thou wak’d’st me wisely; yet
My dream thou brok’st not, but continued’st it.
Thou art so true that thoughts of thee suffice
To make dreams truths, and fables histories;
Enter these arms, for since thou thought’st it best,
Not to dream all my dream, let’s act the rest.
As lightning, or a taper’s light,
Thine eyes, and not thy noise wak’d me;
Yet I thought thee
(For thou lovest truth) an angel, at first sight;
But when I saw thou sawest my heart,
And knew’st my thoughts, beyond an angel’s art,
When thou knew’st what I dreamt, when thou knew’st when
Excess of joy would wake me, and cam’st then,
I do confess, it could not choose but be
Profane, to think thee any thing but thee.
Coming and staying show’d thee, thee,
But rising makes me doubt, that now
Thou art not thou.
That love is weak where fear’s as strong as he;
’Tis not all spirit, pure and brave,
If mixture it of fear, shame, honour have;
Perchance as torches, which must ready be,
Men light and put out, so thou deal’st with me;
Thou cam’st to kindle, goest to come; then I
Will dream that hope again, but else would die.
John Donne praises his lover in this poem while expressing his doubt that he is worthy to love her. He suggests the secret and hidden world of dreams may be penetrated by a lover whose love is pure but then argues that he, through his own impurity may be unworthy of such affection.
In the first stanza he is awakened from sleep by his lover and is pleased. Although the dream was pleasant in its own way, it smacked more of the real world than imaginative fantasy. He considers however that the dream has continued since even the thought of his lover is enough to realise dreams and make stories seem like genuine history. So, he says, let’s embrace and make real the fading memories of the dream.
Rather than any sound she may have made, he says that her eyes woke him as if they were a stroke of lightning or the glare of a match and to his opening eyes she seemed an angel. But when he realises that she sees all his heart and soul laid bare beyond any intuition a holy messenger might have and that she knows his dreams, his thoughts, and the exact moment when waking him will bring the most happiness, he understands that she is a nonpareil—like nothing else other than herself, not even an angel.
In the light of this though, the third stanza expresses his doubt that he is fit to love such as she. Despite his initial reaction, he begins to doubt that she is real and, fearing that he may not be pure enough to match her excellence and that he may be lit by her like a burning brand and equally discarded when his light dims, he beseeches her that since she came to light his metaphorical fire, if she were to go and come back he can hope each time she returns, otherwise he may die of despair.
In other words, it is the state of awakening he wishes to preserve because in that moment he truly believes in his beloved’s affection (and perfection) before the doubts set in.
I like this poem because it expresses true love for the object of affection in a beautiful way and also defines the doubts that we all may have when being loved that we may be unworthy of it, however true or false that may be. Donne’s image of torches being lit and discarded once used is a powerful metaphor that has been used since then in various guises.
There are a few performances on YouTube but I have chosen one by Arthur L Wood, though the one in contemporary pronunciation by A.Z. Foreman is interesting too as it shows how the sounds of words have changed and words we would not consider rhyming today once were homophonous.