intertangled

Yes .
You talk of Pirithous’ and Theseus’ love .
Theirs has more ground , is more maturely seasoned ,
More buckled with strong judgment , and their needs
The one of th’ other may be said to water
Their intertangled roots of love . But I ,
And she I sigh and spoke of , were things innocent ,
Loved for we did , and like the elements
That know not what nor why , yet do effect
Rare issues by their operance , our souls
Did so to one another . What she liked
Was then of me approved , what not , condemned ,
No more arraignment . The flower that I would pluck
And put between my breasts — O , then but beginning
To swell about the blossom — she would long
Till she had such another , and commit it
To the like innocent cradle , where , Phoenix-like ,
They died in perfume . On my head no toy
But was her pattern ; her affections — pretty ,
Though haply hers careless were — I followed
For my most serious decking . Had mine ear
Stol’n some new air , or at adventure hummed one
From musical coinage , why , it was a note
Whereon her spirits would sojourn — rather , dwell
on —
And sing it in her slumbers . This rehearsal —
Which fury-innocent wots well comes in
Like old importment’s bastard — has this end ,
That the true love ’tween maid and maid may be
More than in sex individual .