"Song" by 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 the mermaids
Or to keep off envy's stinging,
Serves to advance an honest mind.
If thou beest borne to strange sights,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
Till age snow white hairs on thee.
Thou, when thou return'st, wilt
All strange wonders that befell
Live 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
And last till you write your letter,
False, ere I come, to two, or three.
T.S. Eliot's essay "The Metaphysical Poets"