The poem
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his, By just exchange, one for the other giv'n. I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss; There never was a better bargain driv'n. His heart in me keeps me and him in one, My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides; He loves my heart, for once it was his own; I cherish his, because in me it bides. His heart his wound received from my sight: My heart was wounded with his wounded heart; For as from me, on him his hurt did light, So still me thought in me his hurt did smart: Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss: My true love hath my heart and I have his.