IF SOUL AND BODY F the dull substance of my flesh were thought, Injurious distance should not stop my way; For then, despite of space, I would be brought From limits far remote, where thou dost stay. No matter then although my food did stand But, ah! thought kills me that I am not thought, Receiving nought by elements so slow 100 SONGS AND SONNETS SOUL AND BODY THE other two, slight air and purging fire, Are both with thee, wherever I abide; The first my thought, the other my desire, These, present-absent, with swift motion slide. For when these quicker elements are gone My life, being made of four, with two alone Until life's composition be recured By those swift messengers return'd from thee, This told, I joy; but then no longer glad, IN THE COURT OF LOVE MINE eye and heart are at a mortal war How to divide the conquest of thy sight; Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar, My heart mine eye the freedom of that right. My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie,— And says in him thy fair appearance lies. To 'cide this title is impanneléd A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart, And by their verdict is determinéd The clear eye's moiety and the dear heart's part : As thus; mine eye's due is thy outward part, And my heart's right thy inward love of heart. 102 SONGS AND SONNETS THE PICTURE AND THE IDEA BETWIXT mine eye and heart a league is took, And each doth good turns now unto the other; When that mine eye is famish’d for a look, Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother, With my Love's picture then my eye doth feast So, either by thy picture or my love, Thyself away art present still with me ; For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move, And I am still with them and they with thee; Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight. THE TREASURE OF TREASURES HOW careful was I, when I took my way, Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, That to my use it might unused stay From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust! But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, Art left the prey of every vulgar thief. Thee have I not lock'd up in any chest, Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art, Within the gentle closure of my breast, From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part; ---And even thence thou wilt be stol'n, I fear, For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear. |