Last night in chat (before my connection died) the term "mandrake" came up in reference to a computer program. (I forget the specifics) Anyway, I finally tracked down the poem from which I remembered the term. I had said I thought the plant had some fertility properties. I was wrong. The poem's line "Get with child a mandrake root" is what made me think this. Actually, a mandrake root was thought to resemble a human body. The poem, which lists impossible tasks, is adding to the list -get a mandrake root pregnant- because it looks so much like a person, but obvuiously isn't.

OK, here's the poem. It's by John Donne. He was extremely sexist, but I like his poetry, so have convinced myself that his sexism was a sort of tongue-in-cheek humour. ;)

_Song_

"Goe, and catche a falling starre,
Get with child a mandrake roote,
Tell me, where all past years are,
Or who cleft the Divels foot,
Teach me to heare Mermaides singing,
Or to keep off envies stinging,
And finde
What winde
Serves to advance an honest minde.

If thou beest borne to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand daies and nights,
Till age snow white haires on thee,
Thou, when thou retorn'st, wilt tell mee
All strange wonders that befell thee,
And sweare
No where
Lives a woman true, and faire.

If thou findst one, let mee know,
Such a Pilgrimage were sweet;
Yet doe not, I would not goe,
Though at next doore wee might meet,
Though shee were true, when you met her,
And last, till you write your letter,
Yet she
Will bee
False, ere I come, to two, or three."


For all of you who are less poetically-inclined ;) I'll try to explain it. Basically, he's saying:

Go catch a falling star and do all sorts of other impossible, unlikely things.

And even if you see the strangest sights, and miraculous events, *still*, even after years and years of searching far and wide, you will swear to me that there is no woman both pretty and virtuous.

*But*, if you do find one, let me know. She would be worth a long trip, indeed. On second though, don't tell me--I wouldn't go anyway. Even if she *were* both beautiful and virtuous when you met her, and stayed that way till you wrote me a letter about her, when *I* met her, even if she lived right next door--when * I* met her, she would no longer be that way.

Grace