Classic Poem

All love is sacred, and the marriage-tie
Hath much of honour and divinity,
But lust, design, or some unworthy ends
May mingle there, which are despised by friends;
Passion hath violent extremes, and thus
All oppositions are contiguous;
So, when the end is served, their love will bate
If friendship make it not more fortunate:
Friendship, that love's elixir, that pure fire
Which burns the clearer 'cause it burns the higher. . .
Friendship, like heraldry, is hereby known
Richest when plainest, bravest when alone,
Calm as a virgin, and more innocent
Than sleeping doves are, and as much content
As saints in visions.