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| Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts, | 1 |
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| Which I by lacking have supposed dead; |
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| And there reigns Love, and all Love's loving parts, |
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| And all those friends which I thought buried. |
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| How many a holy and obsequious tear | 5 |
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| Hath dear religious love stol'n from mine eye, |
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| As interest of the dead, which now appear |
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| But things remov'd that hidden in thee lie! |
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| Thou art the grave where buried love doth live, |
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| Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone, | 10 |
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| Who all their parts of me to thee did give, |
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| That due of many now is thine alone: |
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 Their images I lov'd, I view in thee, |
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| And thou—all they—hast all the all of me. |
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