Several years ago on a different blog I began a series of posts titled “Monday Morning Poetry.” Why? Well, 1) because I like poetry, and 2) because it felt right. I’m not sure I need a deeply philosophical reason for doing so. After all, it’s my blog and I can do what I want.

My plan is to share a poem that I have enjoyed reading in hopes that you will appreciate it as much as I did.

For this first installment I have chosen “Leave Me, O Love, Which Reachest but to Dust,” penned by Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586):

Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust,
And though, my mind, aspire to higher things;
Grow rich in that which never taketh rust;
Whatever fades but fading pleasure brings.
Draw in thy beams and humble all thy might
To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be,
Which breaks the clouds and opens forth the light,
That both doth shine and give us sight to see.
O take fast hold; let that light be thy guide
In this small course which birth draws out to death,
And think how evil becometh him to slide
Who seeketh heav’n, and comes of heavenly breath.
Then farewell, world; thy uttermost I see:
Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me.