Sonnet 44

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. 4No matter then although my foot did standUpon the furthest earth remov'd from thee;For nimble thought can jump both sea and land,As soon as think the place where he would be. 8But, 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; 12Receiving nought by elements so slowBut heavy tears, badges of either's woe.

4 where: to the place where6 furthest earth remov'd: plot of earth most remote9 thought kills me: melancholy kills me (?), it kills me to think (?)11 wrought: made, created14 badges of either's woe; cf. n.