Sweet love, renew thy force; be it
not said
Thy edge should blunter be than
appetite,
Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd,
To-morrow sharpen'd in his former might:
So, love, be thou; although to-day thou
fill
Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with
fullness,
To-morrow see again, and do not kill
The spirit of love with a perpetual
dullness.
Let this sad interim like the ocean be
Which parts the shore, where two
contracted new
Come daily to the banks, that, when they
see
Return of love, more blest may be the
view;
Else call it winter, which being full
of care
Makes summer's welcome thrice more
wish'd, more rare.
View all
Shakespeare's Sonnets:
