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 mermaids' singing,
  Or to keep off envy's stinging,
     And find
     What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind.
If thou be'st born to strange sights,
  Things invisible go see,
Ride ten tousand days and nights,
  Till Age snow white hairs on thee;
Thou, when thou return's, wilt tell me
All strange wonders that befell thee,
     And swear
     No where
Lives 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.
Thoush she were true when you met her,
And last till you write your letter,
     Yet she
     Will be
False, ere I come, to two or three.

- John Donne