631When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see;

632For all the day they view things unrespected,

633But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,

634And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.

635Then thou whose shadow shadows doth make bright,

636How would thy shadow's form, form happy show

637To the clear day with thy much clearer light,

638When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so?

639How would, I say, mine eyes be blessèd made

640By looking on thee in the living day,

641When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade

642Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay?

643 All days are nights to see till I see thee,

644 And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

646If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,

647Injurious distance should not stop my way;

648For then, despite of space, I would be brought

649From limits far remote, where thou dost stay.

650No matter then although my foot did stand

651Upon the farthest earth removed from thee,

652For nimble thought can jump both sea and land

653As soon as think the place where he would be.

654But ah, thought kills me that I am not thought,

655To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone,

656But that so much of earth and water wrought,

657I must attend time's leisure with my moan;

658 Receiving nought by elements so slow

659 But heavy tears, badges of either's woe.

661The other two, slight air, and purging fire,

662Are both with thee, wherever I abide:

663The first my thought, the other my desire,

664These, present-absent, with swift motion slide;

665For when these quicker elements are gone

666In tender embassy of love to thee,

667My life being made of four, with two alone

668Sinks down to death, oppressed with melancholy,

669Until life's composition be recured

670By those swift messengers returned from thee,

671Who even but now come back again assured

672Of thy fair health, recounting it to me.

673 This told, I joy; but then no longer glad,

674 I send them back again and straight grow sad.