WHEN on thy lip my soul I breathe, Which there meets thine, Freed from their fetters by this death Our subtle forms combine; Thus without bonds of sense they move, And like two Cherubins converse by love. Spirits, to chains of earth confin'd, Discourse by sense; But ours, that are by flames refin'd, With those weak ties dispense. Let such in words their minds display; We in a kiss our mutual thoughts convey. But since my soul from me doth fly, To thee retir'd, Thou canst not both retain: for I Must be with one inspir'd. Then, dearest, either justly mine Restore, or in exchange let me have thine. Yet, if thou dost return mine own, Oh tak't again! For 'tis this pleasing death alone Gives ease unto my pain. Kill me once more, or I shall find Thy pity, than thy cruelty, less kind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MAD GARDENER'S SONG by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON MONOTONOUS VARIETY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE TWO DREAMS by GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 1. THE FIRST SONG by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 8 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE LAND OF DREAMS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |