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LXXV.
So
are you to my thoughts as food to life,
Or as sweet-season'd
showers are to the ground;
And for the peace of you I
hold such strife
As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is
found;
Now proud as an enjoyer and anon
Doubting
the filching age will steal his treasure,
Now
counting best to be with you alone,
Then better'd
that the world may see my pleasure;
Sometime all full
with feasting on your sight
And by and by clean
starved for a look;
Possessing or pursuing no
delight,
Save what is had or must from you be took.
Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,
Or gluttoning
on all, or all away.
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