Classic Poem

'Tis true, fair Celia, that by thee I live,
That every kiss, and every fond embrace,
Forms a new soul within me, and doth give
A balsam to the wound made by thy face.
Yet still methinks I miss
That bliss,
Which Lovers dare not name,
And only then described is,
When flame doth meet with flame.

Those favours which do bless me every day,
Are yet but empty and Platonical.
Think not to please your servants with half pay.
Good Gamesters never stick to throw at all.
Who can endure to miss
That bliss,
Which Lovers dare not name,
And only then described is,
When flame doth meet with flame.

If all those sweets within you must remain
Unknown and ne'er enjoy'd, like hidden treasure,
Nature as well as I, will lose her name,
And you as well as I your youthful pleasure,
We wrong ourselves to miss
That bliss,
Which Lovers dare not name,
And only then described is,
When flame doth meet with flame.

Our souls which long have peept at one another
Out of the narrow casements of our eyes,
Shall now by love conducted meet together,
In secret caverns, where all pleasures lies:
There, there we shall not miss
That bliss,
Which Lovers dare not name,
And only then described is,
When flame doth meet with flame.