'Tis true (fair Celia) that by thee I live,
that every kisse, and every fond embrace
form's a new Soul within me,
and doth give a balsome to the wound
made by thy face:
Yet still me thinks I misse 
that blisse which Lovers dare not name,
and only then described is, 
when flame doth meet with flame.

Those favours which do blesse me every day,
Are yet but Empty, and Placonicall.
Think not to please your servants with halfe pay,
Good Gamesters never stick to throw at all.
Who can endure to misse that blisse
Which Lovers dare not name,
And only then described is,
When flame doth meet with flame?

If all those sweers within you must remaine
Unknown, and ne'r enjoyed, like hidden treasure:
Nature, as well as I, will lose her name;
And you, as well as I, your youthfull pleasure.
We wrong our selves to misse that blisse
Which Lovers dare not name,
And only then described is,
When flame doth meet with flame.

Our Souls, which long have peep'd at one another
Out of the narrow Casements of our Eyes,
Shall now, by Love conducted, meet together
In secret Cavern's, where all pleasure lyes.
There, there we shall not misse that blisse
Which Lovers dare not name,
And only then described is,
When flame doth meet with flame.