As virtuous men passe mildly away, 
   And whisper to their soules, to go, 
Whilst some of their sad friends doe say, 
   The breath goes now, and some say, no: 

So let us melt, and make no noise, 
   No teare-floods, nor sigh-tempests move,
'Twere prophanation of our joyes 
   To tell the layetie our love.   laity

Moving of th' earth brings harmes and feares, 
   Men reckon what it did and meant,
But trepidation of the spheares, 
   Though greater farre, is innocent. 

Dull sublunary lovers' love 
   (Whose soule is sense) cannot admit 
Absence, because it doth remove 
   Those things which elemented it. 

But we by a love, so much refin’d, 
   That our selves know not what it is, 
Inter-assured of the mind, 
   Care lesse, eyes, lips, and hands to misse. 

Our two soules therefore, which are one, 
   Though I must goe, endure not yet 
A breach, but an expansion, 
   Like gold to ayery thinnesse beate.    airy

If they be two, they are two so 
   As stiffe twin compasses are two, 
Thy soule, the fixt foot, makes no show 
   To move, but doth, if the’other doe. 

And though it in the center sit, 
   Yet when the other far doth rome, 
It leanes and hearkens after it, 
   And growes erect, as that comes home. 

Such wilt thou be to me, who must, 
   Like th' other foot, obliquely run; 
Thy firmness drawes my circle just, 
   And makes me end where I begunne.