Yourself the sun, and I the melting frost,
    Myself the flax and you the kindly fire,
Yourself the maze wherein my self is lost,
    I your disdain, yet you my heart's desire,
Your love the port whereto my fancies sail,
    My hope the ship whose helm your fair hand guides,
Your grace the wind that must my course avail
    My faith the flood, your frowns the ebbing tides,
Yourself the spring and I the toiling bee.
    My thoughts in you, though yours elsewhere, do rest.
You are the brook and I the deer embossed
My heaven is you, yet you torment my ghost.