LXXV-


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 flinching 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,

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.

Brought to you through Mr. James Voice’s sonnet book and the intricate Mr. William Shakespeare.