Little think�st thou, poor flower,

Whom I�ve watch�d six or seven days,

And seen they birth, and seen what every hour

Gave to thy growth, thee to this height to raise,

And now dost laugh and triumph on this bough,

Little think�st thou,

That it will freeze anon, and that I shall

To-morrow find thee fallen, or not at all.

The first stanza of a poem I�m memorizing by John Donne, The Blossom. Wait till you read the rest. It�s like every stanza relates to a different aspect of my life. Ready for the second one? I�ve only got two memorized:

Little think�st thou, poor heart,

That labourest yet to nestle thee,

And think�st by hovering here to get a part

In a forbidden or forbidding tree,

And hopest her stiffness by long siege to bow,

Little think�st thou

That thou to-morrow, ere the sun doth wake,

That with the sun and me a journey take.

I had a tough weekend, with some wonderful highlights. Friday night, hung with Zim and Bunny, out and about and such. Saturday night, Liz�s birthday party at the Real House. Shades of lipstick, naked girls dancing, you know, the usual. Tainted only by my occasional breakdown as I continued to mourn the disappointing death of a friendship.

But I�ll tell you more about that later. Right now, it�s tax time, and I much prefer to think of my taxes right now than anything else. And as for the first part of the poem, I suggest you read and say aloud to yourself both stanzas at least 10 times slowly. And then just sit back and watch as the meaning sets in, whatever that meaning may be for you. Lovely.

-Barbarella

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