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And touch with life this mortal case of ours:

You’re lifted up beyond the power of dying:

I die, as bounded things die everywhere.

You’re voiced companionship, I’m silence lonely;

You’re stuff, I’m void; you’re living, I’m decay.

I fall, I think, to-night and ending only;

You rise, I know, through still advancing day.

And knowing living gift were life for me

In narrow room of rhyme I fixed it certainly.

That which is one they shear and make it twain

Who would Love’s light and dark discriminate:

His pleasure is one essence with his pain,

Even his desire twin brother to his hate.

With him the foiled attempt is half achieving;

And being mastered, to be armed a lord;

And doubting every chance is still believing;

And losing all one’s own is all reward.

I am acquainted with misfortune’s fortune,

And better than herself her dowry know:

For she that is my fortune and misfortune,

Making me hapless, makes me happier so:

In which conceit, as older men may prove,

Lies manifest the very core of Love.