- How careful was I when I took my way,
- Each trifle under truest bars to thrust,
- That to my use it might unused stay
- From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust!
- But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are,
- Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief,
- Thou best of dearest, and mine only care,
- Art left the prey of every vulgar thief.
- Thee have I not lock’d up in any chest,
- Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art,
- Within the gentle closure of my breast,
- From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part;
- And even thence thou wilt be stol’n I fear,
- For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.