happy saturday.

i'm sitting in my room with nothing but a lamp on.  it's dark outside and the wind is shaking the world around me.  yes, you've got it right.  it's finally poetry weather. so go grab a cup of cocoa and read my favorite poem in the whole wide world. (it's also exactly how i'm feeling. go figure.)

a valediction: forbidding mourning.

by: john donne

as virtuous men pass mildly away,

and whisper to their souls to go,

whilst some of their sad friends do say,

"now his breath goes," 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.

moving of th' earth brings harms and fears;

men reckon what it did, and meant;

but trepidation of the spheres,

though greater far, is innocent.

dull sublunary lovers' love

-whose soul is sense- cannot admit

of absence, 'cause it doth remove

the thing which elemented it.

but we by a love so much refined,

that ourselves know not what it is,

inter-assured of the mind,

care less eyes, lips, and hands to miss.

our two souls therefore, which are one,

though i must go, endure not yet

a breach, but an expansion,

like gold to aery thinness beat.

if they be two, they are two so

as stiff twin compasses are two;

thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show

to move, but doth, if th' other do.

and though it in the centre sit,

yet, when the other far doth roam,

it leans, and hearkens after it,

and grows erect, as that comes home.

such wilt thou be to me, who must,

like th' other foot, obliquely run;

thy firmness makes my circle just,

and makes me end where i begun.

b.