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.
No matter then although my foot did stand
upon the farthest earth removed 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 naught by elements so slow
but heavy tears, badges of either’s woe.

William Shakespeare