Poetry Archives

E’en like two little bank-dividing brooks,
  That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams,
And having ranged and search’d a thousand nooks,
  Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames,
    Where in a greater current they conjoin:
So I my Best-belovèd’s am; so He is mine.

E’en so we met; and after long pursuit,
  E’en so we joined; we both became entire;
No need for either to renew a suit,
  For I was flax, and He was flames of fire:
    Our firm-united souls did more than twine;
So I my Best-belovèd’s am; so He is mine.

If all those glittering Monarchs, that command
  The servile quarters of this earthly ball,
Should tender in exchange their shares of land,
  I would not change my fortunes for them all:
     Their wealth is but a counter to my coin:
The world ’s but theirs; but my Belovèd’s mine.