For one another, though dissimilar;
Such difference, without discord, as can make
Those sweetest sounds, in which all spirits shake
As trembling leaves in a continuous air?
. . . . . . . . . .
The day is come, and thou wilt fly with me.
To whatsoe’er of dull mortality
Is mine, remain a vestal sister still;
To the intense, the deep, the imperishable,
Not mine, but me, henceforth be thou united