Poems / poetry / verse

Sonnet XLIV

If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,
Injurious distance should not stop my way ;
For then, despite of space, I would be brought
From limits far remote, where thou dost stay.
No matter then although my foot did stand
Upon the furthest earth removed from thee ;
For nimble thought can jump both sea and land,
As soon as think the place where he would be.

But, ah! thought kills me that I am not thought,
To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone,
But that, so much of earth and water wrought,
I must attend time’s leisure with my moan ;

Receiving nought by elements so slow
But heavy tears, badges of either’s woe.

William Shakespeare