The other two, slight air and purging fire,
Are both with thee, wherever I abide;
The first my thought, the other my desire,
These present-absent with swift motion slide.
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By those swift messengers return'd from thee, Who even but now come back again, assured Of thy fair health, recounting it to me: This told, I joy; but then no longer glad, I send them back again and straight grow sad. the great Shakespeare. tony
Excellent sonnet! Poetry at its best. Composed in an extremely beautiful and delicate manner.5 stars and to my favorite.