下载掌阅APP，畅读海量书库
立即打开
The other two, slight air and purging fir
Are both with thee, wherever I abide,
The first my thought, the other my desir
These present-absent with swift motion slid
For when these quicker elements are gone
In tender embassy of love to thee,
My life, being made of four, with two alone
Sinks down to death, oppressed with melancholy;
Until life’s composition be recured
By those swift messengers returned from thee
Who even but now come back again, assured,
Of thy fair health, recounting it to me.
This told, I joy; but then, no longer glad
I send them back again and straight grow sad.