WHERE, like a pillow on a bed,   A Pregnant banke swel'd up, to rest The violets reclining head,   Sat we two, one anothers best. Our hands were firmely cimented   With a fast balme, which thence did spring, Our eye-beames twisted, and did thred   Our eyes, upon one double string; So to'entergraft our hands, as yet   Was all the meanes to make us one, And pictures in our eyes to get   Was all our propagation.     — Donne, The Extasie

CEF + DSB