John Donne

“ We can die by it, if not live by love,
⁠And if unfit for tomb or hearse
⁠Our legend be, it will be fit for verse;
And if no piece of chronicle we prove,
⁠We'll build in sonnets pretty rooms;
⁠As well a well-wrought urn becomes
The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs,
⁠And by these hymns, all shall approve
⁠Us canonized for love;
And thus invoke us, "You, whom reverend love
⁠Made one another's hermitage;
⁠You, to whom love was peace, that now is rage;
Who did the whole world's soul contract, and drove
⁠Into the glasses of your eyes ”

“ ⁠The phoenix riddle hath more wit
⁠By us; we two being one, are it;
So, to one neutral thing both sexes fit.
⁠We die and rise the same, and prove
⁠Mysterious by this love. ”