Here you will find the Poem XXXII from Love Redeemed of poet William Baylebridge
Love feeds, like Intellect, his lamp with truth; In the clear truths he finds its flame is measured. And is not flesh, there, verity? In sooth! So Love not by this fantasy is pleasured That slurs the fact in flesh. Its atmosphere, Too rare and nebulous, no fusing shows; Its manna too ambrosial is and sheer: Love craves that union, earthly hunger knows. O sage is Love?he seeks the living line, The miracles in breathing flesh explores, The riches in the depth of sense, divine, The veiled things only eternal longing pours Light unobscured on?yes, his doubting done, With flesh the imminent two converts to one.
