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 new,Come daily to the banks, that when they see:
Return of love, more blest may be the view.
Or call it winter, which being full of care,Makes summer's welcome, thrice more wished, more rare.
