Thou vermin slander, bred in abject minds
Of thoughts impure, by vile tongues animate,
Canker of conversation! couldst thou find
Nought but our love whereon to show thy hate?
Thou never wert, when we two were alone;.mw-parser-output .wst-pline{color:#2E8B57;font-size:83%}.mw-parser-output .wst-pline-default2{margin-left:1em}.mw-parser-output .wst-pline-r{float:right;text-indent:0;margin-left:1em}.mw-parser-output .wst-pline-l{float:left;text-align:right;margin-left:-3em;width:2.5em}.mw-parser-output .wst-pline-or{float:right;text-align:right;margin-right:-3em;width:2.5em}.mw-parser-output .wst-pline-n{font-style:normal}.mw-parser-output .wst-pline-i{font-style:italic}5
What canst thou witness then? thy base dull aid
Was useless in our conversation,
Where each meant more than could by both be said.
Whence hadst thou thy intelligence; from earth?
That part of us ne'er knew that we did love.10
Or from the air? Our gentle sighs had birth
From such sweet raptures as to joy did move.
Our thoughts, as pure as the chaste morning's breath,
When from the night's cold arms it creeps away,
Were cloth'd in words and maiden's blush that hath15
More purity, more innocence than they.
Nor from the water couldst thou have this tale:
No briny tear hath furrow'd her smooth cheek;
And I was pleas'd: I pray what should he ail
That had her love, for what else could he seek?20
We short'ned days to moments by love's art,
Whilst our two souls in amorous extasy
Perceiv'd no passing time, as if a part
Our love had been of still eternity.
Much less could have it from the purer fire:25
Our heat exhales no vapour from coarse sense.
Such as are hopes, or fears, or fond desires;
Our mutual love itself did recompense.
Thou hast no correspondency in heaven,
And th' elemental world thou seest is free:30
Whence hadst thou then this talking, monster? even
From hell, a harbour fit for it and thee.
Curst be th' officious tongue that did address
Thee to her ears, to ruin my content:
May it one minute taste such happiness,35
Deserving lose 't, unpitied it lament!
I must forbear her sight, and so repay
In grief those hours joy shortened to a dram:
Each minute I will lengthen to a day,
And in one year outlive Methusalem.40