The Kiss

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 cherubim 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,
O 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.