Asking for Her Soul

Give me thy soul, Juliet, give me thy soul! 
I am a bitter sea, which drinketh in 
The sweetness of all waters, and so thine. 
Thou, like a river, pure and swift and full 
And freighted with the wealth of many lands, 
With hopes, and fears, and death and life, dost roll 
Against the troubled ocean of my sin. 
Thou doubtest not, though on these desert sands 
The billows surge against thee black with brine, 
Unwearied. For thy love is fixed and even 
And bears thee onward, and thy faith is whole. 
Though thou thyself shouldst sin, yet surely Heaven 
Hath held thee guiltless and thou art forgiven.