Shakespeare's Sonnet 48

How careful was I when I took my way,Each trifle under truest bars to thrust,That to my use it might unused stayFrom hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust!But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are,Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief,Thou best of dearest, and mine only care,Art left the prey of every vulgar thief.Thee have I not lock’d up in any chest,Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art,Within the gentle closure of my breast,From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part;And even thence thou wilt be stol’n I fear,For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.

How careful I was when I set out
to lock every little possession behind the strongest bars,
so it would remain unused until I needed it,
safe under reliable locks from dishonest hands!
But you, beside whom my jewels are worthless,
my greatest comfort, now my greatest grief,
you, the best of all I cherish and my only concern,
are left as prey for every common thief.
I have not locked you in any chest,
except where you are not, though I feel you are:
within the tender enclosure of my heart,
which you may enter and leave whenever you please.
And even from there, I fear, you will be stolen,
for even honesty turns thief for so precious a prize.