- Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,
- Which I by lacking have supposed dead;
- And there reigns Love, and all Love’s loving parts,
- And all those friends which I thought buried.
- How many a holy and obsequious tear
- Hath dear religious love stol’n from mine eye,
- As interest of the dead, which now appear
- But things remov’d that hidden in thee lie!
- Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,
- Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,
- Who all their parts of me to thee did give,
- That due of many now is thine alone:
- Their images I lov’d, I view in thee,
- And thou, all they, hast all the all of me.