Sonnet 56
Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not saidThy edge should blunter be than appetite,Which but to-day by feeding is allayed,To-morrow sharpened in his former might:
So, love, be thou, although to-day thou fillThy hungry eyes, even till they wink with fulness,To-morrow see again, and do not killThe spirit of love, with a perpetual dulness.
Let this sad interim like the ocean beWhich parts the shore, where two contracted newCome daily to the banks, that when they seeReturn of love, more blest may be the view;
As call it winter, which being full of care,Makes summer's welcome, thrice more wished, more rare.