If our souls, split now in two, so
As a stiff twin compass is two;
My soul, that firm foot, will not show
To part, but doth, if its pair will do.
And though it far from orbit sits,
Still as its pair away will tack,
It tilts and follows hard towards it,
And grows up straight, as its pair turns back.
Such will I do for you, who must,
As our front foot, far away part;
My fixity holds our oval just,
And brings us in turn back to our start.
Dull sublunary wish of wizards
(which souls may know) cannot admit
Hollows, as it doth fill in
That thing which is conjuring it.
But us, by caring, so purify,
That our minds know not what it is,
And so, with spirit by and by,
Find our brows, lips, and hands to miss.
Our two souls, says I, unify,
Though I must go, await not as
A void, but as a pliancy,
As gold to airy thin strings cast.
In Parting, Forbidding Mourning
As virtuous folk pass mildly away,
And call out for all souls to go,
Whilst part of this soul's family do say,
His last gasp is now, but crowds say, No;
So liquify, but fall no sound,
No sobbing, nor sigh-storms to cloy;
Call it profanation of all saints
To show this laity our joy.
Motion of our stars brings harms and doubts,
All minds on what signs signify;
But horror at this zodiac,
Though mighty, will not magnify.
Tim Carmody, Oulipian