I
Nature had long a treasure made
   Of all her choicest store;
Fearing, when she should be decayed,
   To beg in vain for more.

                     II
Her Orientest colours there,
   And essences most pure,
With sweetest perfumes hoarded were,
   All as she thought secure.

                     III
She seldom them unlock'd, or used,
   But with the nicest care;
For, with one grain of them diffused,
   She could the world repair.

                     IV
But likeness soon together drew
   What she did sep’rate lay;
Of which one perfect beauty grew,
   And that was Celia.

                     V
Love wisely had of long foreseen
   That he must once grow old;
And therefore stored a magazine,
   To save him from the cold.

                     VI
He kept the sev’ral cells replete
   With nitre thrice refined;
The naphtha's and the sulphur’s heat,
   And all that burns the mind.

                     VII
He fortified the double gate,
   And rarely thither came,
For, with one spark of these, he straight
   All Nature could inflame.

                     VIII
Till, by vicinity so long,
   A nearer way they sought;
And, grown magnetically strong,
   Into each other wrought.

                     IX
Thus all his fuel did unite
   To make one fire high:
None ever burn'd so hot, so bright:
   And Celia that am I.

                     X
So we alone the happy rest,
   Whilst all the world is poor,
And have within ourselves possessed
   All Love's and Nature's store.