| |
| DEAR love, for nothing less than thee | |
| Would I have broke this happy dream; | |
| It was a theme | |
| For reason, much too strong for fantasy. | |
| Therefore thou waked’st me wisely; yet | 5 |
| My dream thou brak’st not, but continued’st it: | |
| Thou art so true that thoughts of thee suffice | |
| To make dreams truths and fables histories. | |
| Enter these arms, for since thou thought’st it best | |
| Not to dream all my dream, let’s act the rest. | 10 |
| |
| As lightning, or a taper’s light, | |
| Thine eyes, and not thy noise, waked me; | |
| Yet I thought thee— | |
| For thou lov’st truth—an angel at first sight; | |
| But when I saw thou saw’st my heart, | 15 |
| And knew’st my thoughts beyond an angel’s art, | |
| When thou knew’st what I dreamt, when thou knew’st when | |
| Excess of joy would wake me, and cam’st then, | |
| I must confess it could not choose but be | |
| Profane to think thee anything but thee. | 20 |
| |
| Coming and staying show’d thee thee; | |
| But rising makes me doubt that now | |
| Thou art not thou. | |
| That Love is weak where Fear’s as strong as he; | |
| ’Tis not all spirit pure and brave, | 25 |
| If mixture it of Fear, Shame, Honour have. | |
| Perchance, as torches, which must ready be, | |
| Men light and put out, so thou dealst with me. | |
| Thou cam’st to kindle, goest to come: then I | |
| Will dream that hope again, but else would die. | 30 |
| |
