O dear life, when shall it be 
  That mine eyes thine eyes may see;
  And in them thy mind discover,
Whether absence hath had force,
Thy remembrance to divorce
  From the image of thy lover?

Or if I myself find not,
After parting, aught forgot :
  Nor debarr'd from Beauty's treasure,
  Let no tongue aspire to tell 
In what high joys I shall dwell,
  Only Thought aims at the pleasure. 

Thought, therefore, I will send thee
To take up the place for me:
  Long I will not after tarry:
There, unseen, thou may'st be bold,
Those fair wonders to behold, 
  Which in them my hopes do carry.

 ... 

O my thought! my thoughts surcease,
Thy delights my woes increase ;
  My life melts with too much thinking :
Think no more, but die in me,
Till thou shalt revived be,
  At her lips my nectar drinking.