jimi
Well-known member
AS virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
"Now his plane goes," and some say, "So?"
So let us weld, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests moves ;
'Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity of our gloves.
Moving of th' earth brings tides and fears ;
Men reckon what it did, and meant ;
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.
Dull sublunary sailors' sail
—Whose soul is sense—cannot admit
Of absence, 'cause it doth prevail
The thing which elemented it.
But we by a sail uch refined,
That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assurèd of the mind,
Care less, nets,bupoys and ships to miss.
Our two hullss therefore, which are one,
Though they must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to aery windward 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 stays erect, as the cat comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
and I’ll buy you a pint in Falmouth when you get theyre.
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
"Now his plane goes," and some say, "So?"
So let us weld, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests moves ;
'Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity of our gloves.
Moving of th' earth brings tides and fears ;
Men reckon what it did, and meant ;
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.
Dull sublunary sailors' sail
—Whose soul is sense—cannot admit
Of absence, 'cause it doth prevail
The thing which elemented it.
But we by a sail uch refined,
That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assurèd of the mind,
Care less, nets,bupoys and ships to miss.
Our two hullss therefore, which are one,
Though they must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to aery windward 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 stays erect, as the cat comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
and I’ll buy you a pint in Falmouth when you get theyre.
