We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb, Now leaves His well-belov'd imprisonment, There He hath made Himself to His intent Weak enough, now into the world to come; But O, for thee, for Him, hath the inn no room? Yet lay Him in this stall, and from the Orient, Stars and wise men will travel to prevent The effect of Herod's jealous general doom. Seest thou, my soul, with thy faith's eyes, how He Which fills all place, yet none holds Him, doth lie? Was not His pity towards thee wondrous high, That would have need to be pitied by thee? Kiss Him, and with Him into Egypt go, With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe.
Bird Dog dear ... You just happened to settle on my favorite poet of all the 16th and 17th century poets available to me. His poem, The Good Morrow is one that pops to mind often ... "And now good morrow to our waking souls, Which watch not one another out of fear...but make one little room an everywhere." These were love poems to the woman who became his wife. Donne had very little money in his youth, and made his living by organizing and listing the libraries of wealthy men around him. He had been quite an amorous adventurer in his youth. But when he accepted the position of librarian for one wealthy man, he met his match, a young and lovely relative of his employer. He fell head over heels for her, won her young heart and married her. Alas, their idyll did not last very long. She fell ill and died, and Donne almost died of grief himself. He emerged from his darkness a different man, dedicated to his church and became dean of a cathedral. It was at this point that all of his religious poems were written ... "no man is an island, entire of itself" and other deeply reflective poems. He never remarried. His writings from the rest of his life are beautiful and unforgettable.