A Ring Presented to Julia

Julia, I bring

To thee this ring,

Made for thy finger fit;

To show by this

That our love is

(Or should be) like to it.

Close though it be,

The joint is free;

So when Love’s yoke is on,

It must not gall,

Or fret at all

With hard oppression.

But it must play

Still either way,

And be, too, such a yoke

As not too wide

To overslide,

Or be so strait to choke.

So we who bear

This beam must rear

Ourselves to such a height

As that the stay

Of either may

Create the burden light.

And as this round

Is nowhere found

To flaw, or else to sever;

So let our love

As endless prove,

And pure as gold for ever.