XLIV

    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 remov'd 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 wrought¹, I must attend, time's leisure with my moan； Receiving nought² by elements so slow But heavy tears, badges of either's woe³.