How heavy do I journey on the way...
Sonnet 50How heavy do I journey on the way,
When what I seek, my weary travel's end, Doth teach that ease 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. |
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I drag my feet un this journey, because the goal at the end just says to me “Look how far away from your friend you’ve travelled.” Even the horse I ride on plods slowly, as if he can feel the weight of my sorrows and understands that his rider is not keen on going fast.
The spurs that I sometimes poke into him in my anger doesn’t make him go any faster – he just groans unhappily, which in turn pricks me sharper than any spur could, because that same groan reminds me that I’m travelling towards sorrow, leaving my happiness behind.
The spurs that I sometimes poke into him in my anger doesn’t make him go any faster – he just groans unhappily, which in turn pricks me sharper than any spur could, because that same groan reminds me that I’m travelling towards sorrow, leaving my happiness behind.