AS virtuous men pass mildly away, | |
And whisper to their souls to go, | |
Whilst some of their sad friends do say, | |
"Now his breath goes," and some say, "No." | |
So let us melt, and make no noise, | 5 |
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ; | |
'Twere profanation of our joys | |
To tell the laity our love. | |
Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ; | |
Men reckon what it did, and meant ; | 10 |
But trepidation of the spheres, | |
Though greater far, is innocent. | |
Dull sublunary lovers' love | |
—Whose soul is sense—cannot admit | |
Of absence, 'cause it doth remove | 15 |
The thing which elemented it. | |
But we by a love so much refined, | |
That ourselves know not what it is, | |
Inter-assurèd of the mind, | |
Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss. | 20 |
Our two souls therefore, which are one, | |
Though I must go, endure not yet | |
A breach, but an expansion, | |
Like gold to aery thinness beat. | |
If they be two, they are two so | 25 |
As stiff twin compasses are two ; | |
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show | |
To move, but doth, if th' other do. | |
And though it in the centre sit, | |
Yet, when the other far doth roam, | 30 |
It leans, and hearkens after it, | |
And grows erect, as that comes home. | |
Such wilt thou be to me, who must, | |
Like th' other foot, obliquely run ; | |
Thy firmness makes my circle just, | 35 |
And makes me end where I begun. |