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| SONNET 51 |
| Thus can my love excuse the slow offence |
| Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed: |
| From where thou art why should I haste me thence? |
| Till I return, of posting is no need. |
| O, what excuse will my poor beast then find, |
| When swift extremity can seem but slow? |
| Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind; |
| In winged speed no motion shall I know: |
| Then can no horse with my desire keep pace; |
| Therefore desire of perfect'st love being made, |
| Shall neigh--no dull flesh--in his fiery race; |
| But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade; |
| Since from thee going he went wilful-slow, |
| Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go. |
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