Get out the microscope, because we’re going through this poem line-by-line.
Lines 19-27
Call's what you will, we are made such by love;
Call her one, me another fly,
We're tapers too, and at our own cost die,
And we in us find th' eagle and the dove.
The phœnix riddle hath more wit
By us; we two being one, are it;
So, to one neutral thing both sexes fit.
We die and rise the same, and prove
Mysterious by this love.
- The speaker's rant goes on into its third stanza. You can call him and his beloved whatever you want—sticks and stones, you know.
- It's not their fault, after all. They were made that way ("such") by love. We're wondering if our speaker is in one of those too-cute relationships where the couple always dresses alike and finishes each other's sentences. If so, we get how that might be annoying.
- You can calls us flies if you want, says the speaker (20), but we're also candles ("tapers") who die "at our own cost" (21). In other words, candles burn themselves out by their very nature.
- History note for mature audiences: around the time Donne was writing, sexual orgasms were referred to as "little deaths," so "at our own cost die" can also be a reference to what the speaker and his lover get up to in their private time. Check out "Steaminess Rating" for more.
- The lovers think of themselves as something a bit nobler than a fly, like an eagle or a dove. Or, the speaker reasons, maybe a phoenix is a more appropriate metaphor for these crazy kids.
- Mythology note: the phoenix was a kind of immortal bird which, when it died, had a new version of itself rise from its dead body.
- This set-up seems to remind the speaker of his relationship with his lover. The two of them are really merged into one in his view, regardless of their genders ("sexes").
- They rise and fall together, just like the phoenix does, and are made just as mysterious as this mythical bird thanks to their love—aww.
- In other words: "Go away world and let us be. You just don't understand our love."