MARK but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is ;
It suck’d me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be.
Thou know’st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead ;
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pamper’d swells with one blood made of two ;
And this, alas ! is more than we would do.
O stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, yea, more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is.
Though parents grudge, and you, we’re met,
And cloister’d in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that self-murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.
Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it suck’d from thee?
Yet thou triumph’st, and say’st that thou
Find’st not thyself nor me the weaker now.
‘Tis true ; then learn how false fears be ;
Just so much honour, when thou yield’st to me,
Will waste, as this flea’s death took life from thee.
Donne, The Flea
Yup, just gonna keep blogging Donne because what else is summer for. If I’m feeling adventurous, I might even move on to Marlowe. I’m a rebel.
BUSY old fool, unruly Sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us ?
Must to thy motions lovers’ seasons run ?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school-boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices ;
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
Thy beams so reverend, and strong
Why shouldst thou think ?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long.
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and to-morrow late tell me,
Whether both th’ Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou left’st them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw’st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, “All here in one bed lay.”
She’s all states, and all princes I ;
Nothing else is ;
Princes do but play us ; compared to this,
All honour’s mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world’s contracted thus ;
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that’s done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere ;
This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere.
What Teachers Make by Taylor Mali is fresh, inspiring, and one of my all time favorite poems. Imagine sitting in class and feeling a strong warm sensation fill your stomach that quickly turned into butterflies. The crowd of butterflies then burst into a huge blast of… excitement? Adrenaline? More accurately put, the feeling was an overwhelming rush of motivation after watching YouTube video “What Teachers Make.” Slam poetry at it’s finest!
Today Sesame Workshop, the nonprofit educational organization behind Sesame Street, announced a multi-year partnership with Teaching Strategies, the educational company that publishes The Creative Curriculum and Teaching Strategies GOLD.
Learn more at http://sesameworkshop.org/school
The recent discovery of a well-preserved dissected head dating back to the 1200s has shown that the middle ages weren’t as anti-science as many scholars would have us believe. While it looks pretty horrific, this mummified head was a medieval science project — a dissection that wasn’t simply meant to be gawked at and tossed away. Given its remarkably well preserved state, scientists suspect that it was used for ongoing medical education.
Whoever preserved this head knew what they were doing. The veins and arteries are filled with a mixture of beeswax, lime and cinnabar mercury — compounds that preserved the body, while also giving the circulatory system some color (cinnabar mercury has a red tint).
Read more about it at LiveScience.