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jjhunter

Sunday, every Sunday, let's have a community picnic. It's probably been a long week, and it's lovely to have a few minutes to sit back and relax and enjoy some good conversation in a less formal space. Feel free to bring something for the Picnic Basket - a poem you liked this week, a thought you had or something you experienced, or even something completely unrelated to poetry whatsoever that you just feel like sharing. Just take a moment to say hello, and maybe have a bite to eat; no one is going anywhere fast, and the shade promises some relief from the everyday heat. Let’s get to know each other a bit better, here under the branches of the poet’s tree.

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From:

lnhammer

I've always enjoyed the idea of 17th century tentacle porn. And the poem itself.

---L.

From:

spiralsheep

I think the last line makes the poem. Herrick's self-deprecation deflates his earlier potential-creepiness. He uses self-deprecating twists in a lot of his "love" poems.

From:

lnhammer

Interestingly, he also does that in a lot of his devotional verse as well, though not as often. If you can track it down, reading Hesperides straight through is well worth it. (NB: that edition segregates his greasier epigrams to an appendix, mitigating some of the effect.)

---L.

From:

spiralsheep

I've read it. :-)
In fact I've long been in the habit of telling people that Robin is my imaginary 17th century poet boyfriend. :-D
I've always had a thing for "Elizabethan" lyric poetry and, of course, Herrick fits perfectly into that style/tradition.