Love Is A Growing, Or

Friends Are Ourselves.

Busy Old Fool, Unruly Sun, Why Dost Thou Thus Through Windows And Through Curtains Call On Us? Must To Thy Motions Lovers Seasons Run?

My Face In Thine Eye, Thine In Mine Appears, And True Plain Hearts Do In The Faces Rest; Where Can We Find Two Better Hemispheres, Without Sharp North, Without Declining West? Whatever Dies, Was Not Mix'd Equally; If Our Two Loves Be One, Or, Thou And I Love So Alike, That None Do Slacken, None Can Die.

Love Is Strong As Death; But Nothing Else Is As Strong As Either; And Both, Love And Death, Met In Christ. How Strong And Powerful Upon You, Then, Should That Instruction Be, That Comes To You From Both These, The Love And Death Of Jesus Christ!

If I Dream I Have You, I Have You, For All Our Joys Are But Fantastical.