This Happy Dream
DEAR love, for nothing less than theeWould I have broke this happy dream;It was a themeFor reason, much too strong for fantasy.Therefore thou wak’dst me wisely; yetMy dream thou brok’st not but continu’dst it:Thou art so true, that thoughts of thee sufficeTo make dreams truth, and fables histories;Enter these arms, for since thou thought’st it bestNot to dream all my dream, let’s act the rest.
As lightning or a taper’s light,Thine eyes, and not thy noise, waked me.Yet I thought thee(For thou lov’st truth) an angel at first sight;But when I saw thou saw’st my heart,And knew’st my thoughts beyond an angel’s art,When thou knew’st what I dreamt, then thou knew’st whenExcess of joy would wake me, and cam’st then;I must confess, it could not choose but beProfane to think thee anything but thee.
Coming and staying showed thee thee,But rising makes me doubt, that nowThou art not thou.That love is weak, where fear’s as strong as he;’Tis not all spirit, pure and brave,If mixture it of fear, shame, honour, have.Perchance as torches, which must ready be,Men light and put out, so thou deal’st with me;Thou cam’st to kindle, goest to come: then IWill dream that hope again, but else would die.