Sonnet Lvi

William Shakespeare

     Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said
     Thy edge should blunter be than appetite,
     Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd,
     To-morrow sharpen'd in his former might:
     So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fill
     Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with fullness,
     To-morrow see again, and do not kill
     The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness.
     Let this sad interim like the ocean be
     Which parts the shore, where two contracted new
     Come daily to the banks, that, when they see
     Return of love, more blest may be the view;
     Else call it winter, which being full of care
     Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare.

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