Sonnet 44

1 If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,
2 Injurious distance should not stop my way,
3 For then despite of space I would be brought,
4 From limits far remote, where thou dost stay,
5 No matter then although my foot did stand
6 Upon the farthest earth removed from thee,
7 For nimble thought can jump both sea and land,
8 As soon as think the place where he would be.
9 But ah, thought kills me that I am not thought
10 To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone,
11 But that so much of earth and water wrought,
12 I must attend, time’s leisure with my moan.
13 Receiving nought by elements so slow,
14 But heavy tears, badges of either’s woe.