"Donne is full of salient verses," says Lowell in his 'Shakespeare Once More,' "that would take the rudest March winds of criticism with their beauty; of thoughts that first tease us like charades, and then delight us with the felicity of their solution." There are few in which an occasional loftiness is sustained throughout, but this occasional excellence is original, condensed, witty, showing a firm and strong mind, clear to a degree almost un-English. His poetry has somewhat of the stability of the Greeks, though it may lack their sweetness and art. His grossness was the heritage of his time. He is classed among the "metaphysical poets," of whom Dr. Johnson wrote:--"They were of very little care to clothe their notions with elegance of dress, and therefore miss the notice and the praise which are often gained by those who think less, but are more diligent to adorn their thoughts." It was in obedience to such a dictum, and to Dryden's suggestion, doubtless, that Pope and Parnell recast and re-versified the 'Satires.' The first edition of Donne's poems appeared two years after his death. Several editions succeeded during the seventeenth century. In the more artificial eighteenth century his harsh and abrupt versification and remote theorems made him difficult to understand. The best editions are 'The Complete Poems of John Donne,' edited by Dr. Alexander Grosart (1872); and 'The Poems of John Donne,' from the text of the edition of 1633, edited by Charles Eliot Norton (1895), from whose work the citations in this volume are taken. THE UNDERTAKING I have done one braver thing Than all the Worthies did, And yet a braver thence doth spring, Which is, to keep that hid. It were but madness now t' impart The skill of specular stone, When he which can have learned the art To cut it, can find none. So, if I now should utter this, Others (because no more Such stuff to work upon there is) Would love but as before: But he who loveliness within Hath found, all outward loathes; For he who color loves, and skin, Loves but their oldest clothes. If, as I have, you also do Virtue attired in women see, And dare love that and say so too, And forget the He and She; And if this love, though placed so, From profane men you hide, Which will no faith on this bestow, Or, if they do, deride; Then you have done a braver thing Than all the Worthies did, And a braver thence will spring, Which is, to keep that hid. A VALEDICTION FORBIDDING MOURNING As virtuous men pass mildly away, And whisper to their souls to go, Whilst some of their sad friends do say, "The breath goes now," and some say "No"; So let us melt and make no noise, No tear-floods nor sigh-tempests move; 'Twere profanation of our joys To tell the laity our love.