Doesn't time fly when you're having fun? Today, the last day of April, is the last day of National Poetry Month and, officially, the last day in our poetry series, which was conceived in its honour.
But now it comes to the moment of parting, I find I don't want to say goodbye. So greatly have I enjoyed choosing and posting the poems, and so stimulating have been the ensuing debates, that it seems contrary to stop now, when we're all having such a good time. There was some discussion of whether and how to continue the series on the John Donne blog last week, and the consensus appeared to be that we ought to carry on with it in some form. So what I propose, after reading your thoughts on the subject, is this: let's downshift from a daily poem to a weekly one, every Friday. I'll happily continue to pick the poems myself, but I think it would be far more interesting if we opened things out a bit. What I'd like, therefore, is for you to email me (sarah.crown@guardian.co.uk) with the poems you'd like to discuss, and I'll post them for you. How does that sound?
And to mark this phoenix-from-the-ashes reinvention of the poem of the day, here is my final choice - for now - this sonnet from Michael Drayton. Take note of the final couplet - and see you all on Friday!
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part, Nay I have done, you get no more of me; And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free; Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain. Now at the last gasp of love's latest breath, When his pulse failing, passion speechless lies, When faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And innocence is closing up his eyes, -Now if thou would'st, when all have given him over, From death to life thou might'st him yet recover!
