So are you to my thoughts as food to
life,
Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the
ground;
And for the peace of you I hold such
strife
As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is
found;
Now proud as an enjoyer and anon
Doubting the filching age will steal his
treasure,
Now counting best to be with you alone,
Then better'd that the world may see my
pleasure;
Sometime all full with feasting on your
sight
And by and by clean starved for a look;
Possessing or pursuing no delight,
Save what is had or must from you be
took.
Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,
Or gluttoning on all, or all away.
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Shakespeare's Sonnets:
