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XXXIX.
O,
how thy worth with manners may I sing,
When thou art
all the better part of me?
What can mine own praise
to mine own self bring?
And what is 't but mine own
when I praise thee?
Even for this let us divided
live,
And our dear love lose name of single one,
That by this separation I may give
That due to thee
which thou deservest alone.
O absence, what a torment
wouldst thou prove,
Were it not thy sour leisure gave
sweet leave
To entertain the time with thoughts of
love,
Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth
deceive,
And that thou teachest how to make one
twain,
By praising him here who doth hence remain!
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