Beware; for an I hold the close again,
I shan’t be so inclined to let thee go.
The joy’s so great in finding thee; and so
This pain of parting doth not kindly wane.
When last I held thee, scarce could I contain
This joy in thee, and painful afterglow
Whose sting I could not, nor would I, forego;
Nor, fearing this, would I, my love restrain.
I die a thousand deaths when thou art gone.
Yet never would I sacrifice this time
When I am once again alive in thee.
I live a thousand lives, sweet paragon,
In every second’s sweet eternity,
In every moment’s perfect paradigm.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all: