110    [from Sonnets]

56

Sweet love renew thy force, be it not said

Thy edge should blunter be then apetite,

Which but too daie by feeding is alaied,

To morrow sharpned in his former might.

5          So love be thou, although too daie thou fill

Thy hungrie eies, even till they winck with fulnesse,

Too morrow see againe, and doe not kill

The spirit of Love, with a perpetual dulnesse:

Let this sad Intrim like the Ocean be

10        Which parts the shore, where two contracted new,

Come daily to the banckes, that when they see

Returne of love, more blest may be the view.

As cal it Winter, which being ful of care,

Makes Sommers welcome, thrice more wish’d, more rare.