| 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 | 5 |
| 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, | 10 |
| And pictures in our eyes to get | |
| Was all our propagation. | |
| As 'twixt two equall Armies, Fate | |
| Suspends uncertaine victorie, | |
| Our soules, (which to advance their state, | 15 |
| Were gone out,) hung 'twixt her, and mee. | |
| And whil'st our soules negotiate there, | |
| Wee like sepulchrall statues lay; | |
| All day, the same our postures were, | |
| And wee said nothing, all the day. | 20 |
| If any, so by love refin'd, | |
| That he soules language understood, | |
| And by good love were growen all minde, | |
| Within convenient distance stood, | |
| He (though he knew not which soule spake, | 25 |
| Because both meant, both spake the same) | |
| Might thence a new concoction take, | |
| And part farre purer then he came. | |
| This Extasie doth unperplex | |
| (We said) and tell us what we love, | 30 |
| Wee see by this, it was not sexe, | |
| Wee see, we saw not what did move: | |
| But as all severall soules containe | |
| Mixture of things, they know not what, | |
| Love, these mixt soules, doth mixe againe, | 35 |
| And makes both one, each this and that. | |
| A single violet transplant, | |
| The strength, the colour, and the size, | |
| (All which before was poore, and scant,) | |
| Redoubles still, and multiplies. | 40 |
| When love, with one another so | |
| Interinanimates two soules, | |
| That abler soule, which thence doth flow, | |
| Defects of lonelinesse controules. | |
| Wee then, who are this new soule, know, | 45 |
| Of what we are compos'd, and made, | |
| For, th'Atomies of which we grow, | |
| Are soules, whom no change can invade. | |
| But O alas, so long, so farre | |
| Our bodies why doe wee forbeare? | 50 |
| They are ours, though they are not wee, Wee are | |
| The intelligences, they the spheare. | |
| We owe them thankes, because they thus, | |
| Did us, to us, at first convay, | |
| Yeelded their forces, sense, to us, | 55 |
| Nor are drosse to us, but allay. | |
| On man heavens influence workes not so, | |
| But that it first imprints the ayre, | |
| Soe soule into the soule may flow, | |
| Though it to body first repaire. | 60 |
| As our blood labours to beget | |
| Spirits, as like soules as it can, | |
| Because such fingers need to knit | |
| That subtile knot, which makes us man: | |
| So must pure lovers soules descend | 65 |
| T'affections, and to faculties, | |
| Which sense may reach and apprehend, | |
| Else a great Prince in prison lies. | |
| To'our bodies turne wee then, that so | |
| Weake men on love reveal'd may looke; | 70 |
| Loves mysteries in soules doe grow, | |
| But yet the body is his booke. | |
| And if some lover, such as wee, | |
| Have heard this dialogue of one, | |
| Let him still marke us, he shall see | 75 |
| Small change, when we'are to bodies gone. | |
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