Sonnet V.

No, this can never be: we needs must meet,
(If my poor faith may to the end endure)
Where love shall be more perfect and more pure,
And love's enjoyments more serenely sweet,
Than here they can be. There thine eyes shall greet
With joy, which tears shall never more obscure,
Him whom, preserved in Memory's portraiture,
Thy heart yet treasures in its still retreat ;
While we, to whom thy love hath been so dear,
(My mate beloved and I) at length set free
From all the sorrows of this nether sphere,
Shall feel a scarce less rapturous ecstasy,
Contemplating the perfect bliss, which ye
Enjoy, beyond the reach of change or fear.