Our two souls therefore which are one, Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion, Like gold to airy thinness beat.

But think that we Are but turned aside to sleep.

Humiliation is the beginning of sanctification.

Love's mysteries in souls do grow, But yet the body is his book.

My love though silly is more brave.

I am two fools, I know, For loving, and for saying so.

All Kings, and all their favorites, All glory of honors, beauties, wits, The sun itself, which makes times, as they pass, Is elder by a year, now, than it was When thou and I first one another saw: All other things, to their destruction draw, Only our love hath no decay; This, no tomorrow hash, nor yesterday, Running, it never runs from us away, But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.