E’en like two little bank-dividing brooks,
    That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams,
And having ranged and searched a thousand nooks,
    Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames,
    Where in a greater current they conjoin:
So I my Best-Belovèd’s am; so He is mine.

E’en so we met; and after long pursuit,
    E’en so we...