The Good-Morrow

I wonder by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved? Were we not wean'd till then? 
But suck'd on country pleasures, childishly? 
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den?
'Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be;
If ever any beauty I did see, 
Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.

And now good-morrow to our waking souls, 
Which watch not one another out of fear;
For love all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone;
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown;
Let us possess one world; each hath one, and is one. 

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, 
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
Where can we find two better hemispheres 
Without sharp north, without declining west?
Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally;
If our two loves be one, or thou and I 
Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die.