Sweetest of sweets, I thank you. When displeasure
Did through my body wound my mind,
You took me thence, and in your house of pleasure
A dainty lodging me assigned,
Now I in you without a body move,
Rising and falling with your wings:
We both together sweetly live and love,
You say some times, God help poor Kings.
Comfort, I'll die; for if you post from me,
Sure I shall do so, and much more:
But if I travel in your company,
You know the way to heaven's door.
George Herbert, 1593-1633