Holy Sonnet XVII

    Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
    To nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,
    And her soul early into heaven ravished,
    Wholly in heavenly things my mind is set.
    Here the admiring her my mind did whet
    To seek thee, God; so streams do show the head;
    But though I have found thee, and thou my thirst hast fed,
    A holy thirsty dropsy melts me yet.
    But why should I beg more love, whenas thou
    Dost woo my soul, for hers off'ring all thine,
    And dost not only fear lest I allow
    My love to saints and angels, things divine,
    But in thy tender jealousy dost doubt
    Lest the world, flesh, yea devil put thee out.