Sonnet 50 By Phillip Nester

How 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 lov'd not speed, being made from thee:

The bloody spur cannot provoke him on

That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide

Which he answer heavily 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 not behind.

Created By
Phillip Nester
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