Sonnet 50: How Heavy Do I Journey On The Way
William Shakespeare
How heavy do I journey on the way, When what I seek, my weary travel's end, Doth teach that case and that repose to say, "Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!" The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me, As if by some instinct the wretch did know His rider loved not speed being made from thee. The bloody spur cannot provoke him on That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide, Which heavily he answers with a groan, More sharp to me than spurring to his side; For that same groan doth put this in my mind: My grief lies onward and my joy behind.
Next 10 Poems
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 51: Thus Can My Love Excuse The Slow Offence
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 52: So Am I As The Rich Whose Blessd Key
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 53: What Is Your Substance, Whereof Are You Made
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 54: O, How Much More Doth Beauty Beauteous Seem
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 55: Not Marble, Nor The Gilded Monuments
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 56: Sweet Love, Renew Thy Force, Be It Not Said
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 57: Being Your Slave, What Should I Do But Tend
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 58: That God Forbid, That Made Me First Your Slave
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 59: If There Be Nothing New, But That Which Is
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 6: Then Let Not Winter's Ragged Hand Deface
Previous 10 Poems
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 5: Those Hours, That With Gentle Work Did Frame
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 49: Against That Time, If Ever That Time Come
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 48: How Careful Was I, When I Took My Way
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 47: Betwixt Mine Eye And Heart A League Is Took
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 46: Mine Eye And Heart Are At A Mortal War
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 45: The Other Two, Slight Air And Purging Fire
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 44: If The Dull Substance Of My Flesh Were Thought
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 43: When Most I Wink, Then Do Mine Eyes Best See
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 42: That Thou Hast Her, It Is Not All My Grief
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 41: Those Pretty Wrongs That Liberty Commits