Shakespeare Sundays with Chop Bard

Sonnet 44


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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 wrought, I must attend time's leisure with my moan,     Receiving nought by elements so slow     But heavy tears, badges of either's woe.

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Shakespeare Sundays with Chop BardBy Ehren Ziegler: Actor, Artist, Shakespeare enthusiast

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