A Ring Presented to Julia

Julia, I bring To thee this ring, Made for thy finger fit; To show by this That our love is (Or should be) like to it. Close though it be, The joint is free; So when Love’s yoke is on, It must not gall, Or fret at all With hard oppression. But it must play Still either way, And be, too, such a yoke As not too wide To overslide, Or be so strait to choke. So we who bear This beam must rear Ourselves to such a height As that the stay Of either may Create the burden light. And as this round Is nowhere found To flaw, or else to sever; So let our love As endless prove, And pure as gold for ever.