Disclaimer – I in no way own this wonderful John Donne poem, nor do I own CBS or its affiliates.
A/N – I was reading through some old English textbooks and I came across this and couldnt help but think that it suited Sara and Grissom. Im sure that Grissom knows of poets beyond Shakespeare. This is supposed to take place before Grissom goes on his sabbatical.
A/N 2 – I wrote this in about ten minutes and its pretty crappy. I more or less had to get it out.
His shirt was drenched with the tears of the only person that he had loved. And so his shirt was covered with the tears of his soul.
AS virtuous men pass mildly away, And whisper to their souls to go,Whilst some of their sad friends do say, "Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."
His father had gone quietly. Had said nothing. No one had said anything.
So let us melt, and make no noise, No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;Twere profanation of our joys To tell the laity our love.
He had seen the loves of others crumble on so many occasions that he had simply lost count. Had lost interest in counting. But there love was above that of the commoner. And so he would not cry.
Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ; Men reckon what it did, and meant ; But trepidation of the spheres, Though greater far, is innocent.
The harbinger of the sorrow he had seen throughout the course of his career was passion. The violence like that of volcanoes. But there love was more. It was more, it was solid and it would never cause harm.
Dull sublunary lovers' love —Whose soul is sense—cannot admitOf absence, 'cause it doth remove The thing which elemented it.
Others would lose sight. He would not. And he would make sure that she understood.
But we by a love so much refined, That ourselves know not what it is,Inter-assurèd of the mind, Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.
Our two souls therefore, which are one, Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion, Like gold to aery thinness beat.
If he was on the other side of the country, their love would span all that lay between them. Would engulf it in its wholeness and purity.
If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two ; Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show To move, but doth, if th' other do.
And though it in the centre sit, Yet, when the other far doth roam, It leans, and hearkens after it, And grows erect, as that comes home.
Such wilt thou be to me, who must, Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;Thy firmness makes my circle just, And makes me end where I begun.
She was his reason. She was his rock. And although he had to wander out, she as always held him fast.