Nature had long a Treasure made <br />Of all her choisest store; <br />Fearing, when She should be decay'd, <br />To beg in vain for more. <br /> <br />Her Orientest Colours there, <br />And Essences most pure, <br />With sweetest Perfumes hoarded were, <br />All as she thought secure. <br /> <br />She seldom them unlock'd, or us'd, <br />But with the nicest care; <br />For, with one grain of them diffus'd, <br />She could the World repair. <br /> <br />But likeness soon together drew <br />What she did separate lay; <br />Of which one perfect Beauty grew, <br />And that was Celia. <br /> <br />Love wisely had of long fore-seen <br />That he must once grow old; <br />And therefore stor'd a Magazine, <br />To save him from the cold. <br /> <br />He kept the several Cells repleat <br />With Nitre thrice refin'd; <br />The Naphta's and the Sulphurs heat, <br />And all that burns the Mind. <br /> <br />He fortifi'd the double Gate, <br />And rarely thither came, <br />For, with one Spark of these, he streight <br />All Nature could inflame. <br /> <br />Till, by vicinity so long, <br />A nearer Way they sought; <br />And, grown magnetically strong, <br />Into each other wrought. <br /> <br />Thus all his fewel did unite <br />To make one fire high: <br />None ever burn'd so hot, so bright: <br />And Celia that am I. <br /> <br />So we alone the happy rest, <br />Whilst all the World is poor, <br />And have within our Selves possest <br />All Love's and Nature's store.<br /><br />Andrew Marvell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-match/
