A Letter written by Sir H[enry] G[oodyere] and J[ohn] D[onne], alternis vicibus

SINCE every tree begins to blossom now,

Perfuming and enamelling each bough,

Hearts should as well as they some fruits allow.

For since one old poor sun serves all the rest,

You several suns, that warm and light each breast,

Do by that influence all your thoughts digest.

And that you two may so your virtues move

On better matter than beams from above,

Thus our twined souls send forth these buds of love.

As in devotions men join both their hands,

We make ours do one act, to seal the bands,

By which we enthrall ourselves to your commands.

And each for other’s faith and zeal stand bound,

As safe as spirits are from any wound,

So free from impure thoughts they shall be found.

Admit our magic then by which we do

Make you appear to us, and us to you,

Supplying all the Muses in you two.

We do consider no flower that is sweet,

But we your breath in that exhaling meet,

And as true types of you, them humbly greet.

Here in our nightingales we hear you sing,

Who so do make the whole year through a spring,

And save us from the fear of autumn’s sting.

In Ancor’s calm face we your smoothness see,

Your minds unmingled, and as clear as she

That keeps untouched her first virginity.

Did all St. Edith’s nuns descend again,

To honour Polesworth with their cloister’d train,

Compared with you each would confess some stain.

Or should we more bleed out our thoughts in ink,

No paper—though it would be glad to drink

Those drops—could comprehend what we do think.

For ’twere in us ambition to write

So, that because we two you two unite,

Our letter should, as you, be infinite.