|
| SONNET 45 |
| The other two, slight air and purging fire, |
| Are both with thee, wherever I abide; |
| The first my thought, the other my desire, |
| These present-absent with swift motion slide. |
| For when these quicker elements are gone |
| In tender embassy of love to thee, |
| My life, being made of four, with two alone |
| Sinks down to death, oppress'd with melancholy; |
| Until life's composition be recured |
| By those swift messengers return'd from thee, |
| Who even but now come back again, assured |
| Of thy fair health, recounting it to me: |
| This told, I joy; but then no longer glad, |
| I send them back again and straight grow sad. |
Sign up for the 
