My name engraved herein,
Doth contribute my firmness to this glass,
Which, ever since that charm, hath been
As hard, as that which graved it, was;
Thine eye will give it price enough to mock
The diamonds of either rock.

'Tis much that glass should be
As all confessing, and through-shine as I,
'Tis more, that it shows thee to thee,
And clear reflects thee to thine eye.
But all such rules, love's magic can undo,
Here you see me, and I am you.

As no one point, nor dash,
Which are but accessory to this name,
The showers and tempests can outwash,
So shall all times find me the same;
You this entireness better may fulfil,
Who have the pattern with you still.

Or if too hard and deep
This learning be, for a scratched name to teach,
It, as a given death's head keep
Lovers' mortality to preach,
Or think this ragged bony name to be
My ruinous anatomy.

Then, as all my souls be
Emparadised in you, (in whom alone
I understand, and grow and see,)
The rafters of my body, bone
Being still with you, the muscle, sinew, and vein,
Which tile this house, will come again.

Till my return repair
And recompact my scattered body so,
As all the virtuous powers which are
Fixed in the stars, are said to flow
Into such characters, as graved be
When these stars have supremacy,

So since this name was cut
When love and grief their exaltation had,
No door 'gainst this name's influence shut;
As much more loving, as more sad,
'Twill make thee; and thou shouldst, till I return,
Since I die daily, daily mourn.

When thy inconsiderate hand
Flings ope this casement, with my trembling name,
To look on one, whose wit or land,
New battery to thy heart may frame,
Then think this name alive, and that thou thus
In it offend'st my Genius.

And when thy melted maid,
Corrupted by thy lover's gold, and page,
His letter at thy pillow hath laid,
Disputed it, and tamed thy rage,
And thou begin'st to thaw towards him, for this,
May my name step in, and hide his.

And if this treason go
To an overt act, and that thou write again;
In superscribing, this name flow
Into thy fancy, from the pane.
So, in forgetting thou rememberest right,
And unaware to me shalt write.

But glass, and lines must be
No means our firm substantial love to keep;
Near death inflicts this lethargy,
And this I murmur in my sleep;
Impute this idle talk, to that I go,
For dying men talk often so.