Sweet loue renew thy force, be it not said
Thy edge should blunter be then apetite,
Which but too daie by feeding is alaied,
To morrow sharpned in his former might.
So loue be thou, although too daie thou fill
Thy hungrie eies, euen till they winck with fulnesse,
Too morrow see againe, and doe not kill
The spirit of Loue with a perpetual dulnesse:
Let this sad Intrim like the Ocean be
Which parts the shore, where two contracted new
Come daily to the banckes, that when they see
Returne of loue, more blest may be the view;
Or cal it Winter, which being ful of care,
Makes Sommers welcome, thrice more wish’d, more rare.
Sweet love, renew thy force, be it not said
Thy edge should blunter be than appetite,
Which but today by feeding is allayed,
Tomorrow sharpened in his former might;
So, love, be thou, although today thou fill
Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with fullness,
Tomorrow 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 blessed may be the view;
Or call it winter, which being full of care,
Makes summer’s welcome thrice more wished, more rare.