Goe Booke and balke those eyes,
That loue but shadowes sightes;
And let them gape for flyes,
That make but buzzards flights.

And tell the humble heart
That longes in better loue
To him thou wilt impart.
Thy spirit's turtle doue.

Whose flesh the soule doth feed
With that eternall sweet;
Wherein heart's eies may reed
How life and loue doe meet.

To make the blessed see
The loue, that longeth best;
And what those longinges bee
Whose loue is neuer blest.

That loue not misconceiu'd in thought
May neuer long for that is nought.