Twice or thrice had I loved thee,
Before I knew thy face or name;
So in a voice, so in shapeless flame,
Angels affect us oft, and worshipped be;
Still when, to where thou went, I came.
Some lovely glorious nothing I did see.
But since my soul, whose child love is,
Take limbs of flesh, and else could nothing do,
More subtle than the parent is
Love must not
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