If our two loves be one, or, thou and I Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.
Never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.
Licence my roving hands, and let them go Before, behind, between, above, below.
Love, built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies.
If ever any beauty I did see,Which I desired, and got, ’twas but a dream of thee.
I am two fools, I know,For loving, and for saying so.
I joy, that in these straits I see my west;
And to ‘scape stormy days, I choose an everlasting night.
Love’s mysteries in souls do grow,But yet the body is his book.
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