Soule of my soule! my Joy, my crown, my friend! <br />A name which all the rest doth comprehend; <br />How happy are we now, whose sols are grown, <br />By an incomparable mixture, One: <br />Whose well acquainted minds are not as neare <br />As Love, or vows, or secrets can endeare. <br />I have no thought but what's to thee reveal'd, <br />Nor thou desire that is from me conceal'd. <br />Thy heart locks up my secrets richly set, <br />And my breast is thy private cabinet. <br />Thou shedst no teare but what but what my moisture lent, <br />And if I sigh, it is thy breath is spent. <br />United thus, what horrour can appeare <br />Worthy our sorrow, anger, or our feare? <br />Let the dull world alone to talk and fight <br />And with their vast ambitions nature fright; <br />Let them despise so innocent a flame, <br />While Envy, pride, and faction play their game: <br />But we by Love sublim'd so high shall rise, <br />To pitty Kings, and Conquerours despise, <br />Since we that sacred union have engrost, <br />Which they and all the sullen world have lost.<br /><br />Katherine Philips<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/6th-april-1651-l-amitie-to-mrs-m-awbrey/
