John Donne.

GO and catch a falling star,

  Get with child a mandrake root,

Tell me where all past years are,

  Or who cleft the Devil’s foot;

Teach me to hear mermaids singing,

Or to keep off envy’s stinging,

        And find

        What wind

Serves to advance an honest mind.


If thou be’st born to strange sights,

  Things invisible to see,

Ride ten thousand days and nights

  Till Age snow white hairs on thee;

Thou, when thou return’st, wilt tell me

All strange wonders that befell thee,

        And swear

        No where

Lives a woman true and fair.


If thou find’st one, let me know;

  Such a pilgrimage were sweet.

Yet do not; I would not go,

  Though at next door we might meet.

Though she were true when you met her,

And last till you write your letter,

        Yet she

        Will be

False, ere I come, to two or three.


literature, poetry

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