Sonnet XLII. For if alone thou think to waft my Love

Giles Fletcher (1586?–1623)

FOR if alone thou think to waft my Love,

Her cold is such as can the sea command;

And frozen ice shall let [hinder] thy boat to move.

Nor can thy forces row it from the land.

But if thou, friendly, both at once shall take;

Thyself mayest rest! For why? My sighs will blow.

Our cold and heat so sweet a thaw shall make

As that thy boat, without thy help, shall row.

Then will I sit and glut me on those eyes

Wherewith my life, my eyes could never fill.

Thus from thy boat that comfort shall arise,

The want whereof my life and hope did kill.

Together placed, so thou her scorn shalt cross:

Where if we part, thy boat must suffer loss.