A Ring Presented to Julia

Julia, I bringTo thee this ring,Made for thy finger fit;To show by thisThat our love is(Or should be) like to it.

Close though it beThe joint is free;So, when love's yoke is on,It must not gall,Or fret at allWith hard oppression.

But it must playStill either way,And be, too, such a yokeAs not too wideTo overslide,Or be so strait to choke.

So we who bearThis beam must rearOurselves to such a heightAs that the stayOf either mayCreate the burden light.

And as this roundIs nowhere foundTo flaw, or else to sever:So let our loveAs endless prove,And pure as gold for ever.