They shoot their tinsel beams and vanities,
Threading with those false fires their way;
But as you stay
And see them stray,
You lose the flaming track, and subtly they
Languish away,
And cheat your eyes.
Just so base, sublunary lovers' hearts
Fed on loose profane desires,
May for an eye
Or face comply:
But those remov'd, they will as soon depart,
And show their art,
And painted fires.
Whilst I by pow'rful love, so much refin'd,
That my absent soul the same is,
Careless to miss
A glance or kiss,
Can with those elements of lust and sense
Freely dispense,
And court the mind.
Thus to the North the loadstones move,
And thus to them th' enamour'd steel aspires:
Thus Amoret
I do affect;
And thus by winged beams, and mutual fire,
Spirits and stars conspire:
And this is Love.