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

Hark, when the weight of this world doth press upon thy frail shoulders,
and a rain of sorrows ceaseth not from thy weeping eyes, then hearken well!

For the heavens themselves whisper thy name upon the winds. Divine light, it cometh not with the clang of brazen bells, but through the rustling leaves that fall even as thou bowest thy head in despair, through the gentle breeze that doth caress the wounds within thy heart.

Know this, good friend, thou art celebrated not by the fleeting cheers of this mortal realm, but by the very kingdom that lies beyond the celestial sphere.
Angels dance in the heavens above, rejoicing over each tear thou shedst that is not in vain.

And I, though our paths diverge and our eyes meet not, I too celebrate thee, for the answer thou seekest, it knows the way back to thee.

It may tarry in its journey, yet it doth always arrive when the hour is ripe and the time is right. Take heart, and fear not!