| If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, | 
| Injurious distance should not stop my way; | 
| For then despite of space I would be brought, | 
| From limits far remote where thou dost stay. | 
| No matter then although my foot did stand | 
| Upon the farthest earth removed from thee; | 
| For nimble thought can jump both sea and land | 
| As soon as think the place where he would be. | 
| But ah! | 
| thought kills me that I am not thought, | 
| To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone, | 
| But that so much of earth and water wrought | 
| I must attend time’s leisure with my moan, | 
| Receiving nought by elements so slow | 
| But heavy tears, badges of either’s woe. | 
| The other two, slight air and purging fire, | 
| Are both with thee, wherever I abide; | 
| The first my thought, the other my desire, | 
| These present-absent with swift motion slide. | 
| For when these quicker elements are gone | 
| In tender embassy of love to thee, | 
| My life, being made of four, with two alone | 
| Sinks down to death, oppress’d with melancholy; | 
| Until life’s composition be recured | 
| By those swift messengers return’d from thee, | 
| Who even but now come back again, assured | 
| Of thy fair health, recounting it to me: | 
| This told, I joy; | 
| but then no longer glad, | 
| I send them back again and straight grow sad. |