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.