Great Sorrows Cannot Speak.

My Face In Thine Eye, Thine In Mine Appears, And True Plain Hearts Do In The Faces Rest; Where Can We Find Two Better Hemispheres, Without Sharp North, Without Declining West? Whatever Dies, Was Not Mix'd Equally; If Our Two Loves Be One, Or, Thou And I Love So Alike, That None Do Slacken, None Can Die.

And New Philosophy Calls All In Doubt, The Element Of Fire Is Quite Put Out; The Sun Is Lost, And The Earth, And No Mans Wit Can Well Direct Him Where To Look For It.

This Extasie Doth Unperplex (we Said) And Tell Us What We Love, Wee See By This, It Was Not Sexe, Wee See, We Saw Not What Did Move: But As All Severall Soules Contain Mixture Of Things, They Know Not What, Love, These Mixt Souls, Doth Mixe Againe. Loves Mysteries In Soules Doe Grow, But Yet The Body Is His Booke.

Full Nakedness! All My Joys Are Due To Thee, As Souls Unbodied, Bodies Unclothed Must Be, To Taste Whole Joys.

But He Who Loveliness Within Hath Found, All Outward Loathes, For He Who Color Loves, And Skin, Loves But Their Oldest Clothes.