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| SINCE every tree begins to blossom now, | |
| Perfuming and enamelling each bough, | |
| Hearts should as well as they some fruits allow. | |
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| For since one old poor sun serves all the rest, | |
| You several suns, that warm and light each breast, | 5 |
| Do by that influence all your thoughts digest. | |
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| And that you two may so your virtues move | |
| On better matter than beams from above, | |
| Thus our twined souls send forth these buds of love. | |
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| As in devotions men join both their hands, | 10 |
| We make ours do one act, to seal the bands, | |
| By which we enthrall ourselves to your commands. | |
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| And each for other’s faith and zeal stand bound, | |
| As safe as spirits are from any wound, | |
| So free from impure thoughts they shall be found. | 15 |
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| Admit our magic then by which we do | |
| Make you appear to us, and us to you, | |
| Supplying all the Muses in you two. | |
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| We do consider no flower that is sweet, | |
| But we your breath in that exhaling meet, | 20 |
| And as true types of you, them humbly greet. | |
| |
| Here in our nightingales we hear you sing, | |
| Who so do make the whole year through a spring, | |
| And save us from the fear of autumn’s sting. | |
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| In Ancor’s calm face we your smoothness see, | 25 |
| Your minds unmingled, and as clear as she | |
| That keeps untouched her first virginity. | |
| |
| Did all St. Edith’s nuns descend again, | |
| To honour Polesworth with their cloister’d train, | |
| Compared with you each would confess some stain. | 30 |
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| Or should we more bleed out our thoughts in ink, | |
| No paper—though it would be glad to drink | |
| Those drops—could comprehend what we do think. | |
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| For ’twere in us ambition to write | |
| So, that because we two you two unite, | 35 |
| Our letter should, as you, be infinite. | |
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