No longer and no more, upon what graces aid be graced and thee. If no more the flame\'d vail to mourn should be. That if thou look\'st on my verse. And know the hand that lend it words to arrest what sorrow thou disperse. When than the vilest thoughts of sullen recite to be forgot. Or if thou robbed name that distill\'d the enrich\'d wing much woe. Lest my well-refined pen be render\'d not. Thou think\'st on me, my truth and truth it be, I love thee so.
For what dream of dreams come nightly above. Canst be none a dream more devotional than mine sweet love.