Classic Poem

We saw and woo'd each other's eyes,
My soul contracted then with thine,
And both burnt in one sacrifice
By which our marriage grew divine.

Let wilder youths, whose soul is sense,
Profane the temple of delight,
And purchase endless penitence
With the stolen pleasure of one night.

Time's ever ours, while we despise
The sensual idol of our clay,
For though the sun do set and rise
We joy one everlasting day.

Whose light no jealous clouds obscure,
While each of us shines innocent.
The troubled stream is still impure:
With virtue flies away content.

And though opinion often err,
We'll court the modest smile of fame,
For sin's black danger circles her
Who hath infection in her name.

Thus when to one dark silent room
Death shall our loving coffins thrust,
Fame will build columns on our tomb,
And add a perfume to our dust.