A Desire of the Loving Soule, of God, to Be Kissed with the Kisse of Peace

Kisse me, ├┤ kisse me, with Loues honyed Kisse ,
├┤ dearest Loue, and sweet'st-Heart of my Soule:
Whose loue is like pure Wine that cordiall is;
& doth sowre eares, with Comforts sweet, controle.

Thy Name is like so sweet suffused Balme :
which makes chast Soules eu'n sick for loue of thee:
Whose Passions (striuing in a blessed calme
on Sorrowes Seas) to thee still rowling be.

Drawe me (deare Loue) then, after thee Ile runne
vpon the sent of thy diuine Perfumes:
My Loue's impatient (since it first begunne)
of this delay, which quite my Soule consumes:
Then, ├┤, delay no more to marry mee;
But wed my Soule that pines for loue of Thee.
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