Hello, hello! How’s everyone doing this lovely Wednesday? I have nothing new to report and it’s a little late and I need to go finish making the grocery order, so I’m cheating this week and leaving you with a poem. It’s national poetry month, so let’s pretend that’s why. Don’t worry. Next week is book review time, plus I ended up with another book to review for the 1st. So, there are at least two weeks of actual posts ahead!

A VALEDICTION OF WEEPING.
by John Donne

                LET me pour forth
My tears before thy face, whilst I stay here,
For thy face coins them, and thy stamp they bear,
And by this mintage they are something worth.
                For thus they be
                Pregnant of thee ;
Fruits of much grief they are, emblems of more ;
When a tear falls, that thou fall’st which it bore ;
So thou and I are nothing then, when on a divers shore.

                On a round ball
A workman, that hath copies by, can lay
An Europe, Afric, and an Asia,
And quickly make that, which was nothing, all.
                So doth each tear,
                Which thee doth wear,
A globe, yea world, by that impression grow,
Till thy tears mix’d with mine do overflow
This world, by waters sent from thee, my heaven dissolvèd so.

                O ! more than moon,
Draw not up seas to drown me in thy sphere ;
Weep me not dead, in thine arms, but forbear
To teach the sea, what it may do too soon ;
                Let not the wind
                Example find
To do me more harm than it purposeth :
Since thou and I sigh one another’s breath,
Whoe’er sighs most is cruellest, and hastes the other’s death.