Two subtle beams make but one cone of light,
Or when one flame twin'd with another is,
They both ascend in one bright pyramis;
Our spirits thus into each other flow,
One in our being, one in what we know,
In what we will, desire, dislike, approve,
In what we love, and one is that pure love,
As in a burning glass th' aërial flame,
10With the producing ray, is still the same:
We to Love's purest quintessence refin'd,