The Requiem of Love

While we live here as flesh and bone
And so desirous of a better state,
We find our souls should not be alone
To Time's own end and our own fate.

But if our spirits were already one
Apart from that which worldly lives
Our desperate need becomes our hope undone
For the touch of touch to which it gives.

For how may spirits truly love
Without Love's touch requiting
Or without the fondest osculation
Of sensual exciting?