I long to talk with some old lover's ghost, Who died before the god of love was born.

The heavens rejoice in motion, why should I Abjure my so much loved variety.

Without outward declarations, who can conclude an inward love?

I long to talk with some old lover's ghost, Who died before the god of love was born.

What if this present were the world's last night?

For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love.

There is nothing that God hath established in a constant course of nature, and which therefore is done every day, but would seem a Miracle, and exercise our admiration, if it were done but once.