If thou a reason dost desire to know

If thou a reason dost desire to know,

My dearest Cynthia, why I love thee so,

As when I do enjoy all thy love's store,

I am not yet content, but seek for more;

When we do kiss so often as the tale

Of kisses doth out vie the winter's hail:

When I do print them on more close and sweet

Than shells of scallops, cockles when they meet,

Yet am not satisfied: when I do close

Thee nearer to me than the ivy grows

unto the oak: when those white arms of thine

Clip me more close than doth the elm the vine:

When naked both, thou seemest not to be

Contiguous, but continuous parts of me:

And we in bodies are together brought

So near, so near, our souls may know each

other's thought without a whisper: yet I do aspire

To come more close to thee, and to be nigher,

Know, 'twas well said, that spirits are too high

For bodies, when they meet, to satisfy.