Inclusions

OH, wilt thou have my hand, Dear, to lie along inthine?As a little stone in a running stream, it seems tolie and pine!Now drop the poor pale hand, Dear, . . unfit toplight with thine.

Oh, wilt thou have my cheek, Dear, drawn closer tothine own?My cheek is white, my cheek is worn, by many atear run down.Now leave a little space, Dear, . . lest it should wetthine own.

Oh, must thou have my soul, Dear, commingledwith thy soul?—Red grows the cheek, and warm the hand, . . thepart is in the whole! . .Nor hands nor cheeks keep separate, when soul isjoined to soul.