If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,
Injurious distance should not stop my way;
For then despite of space I would be brought,
From limits far remote, where thou dost stay.

No matter then although my foot did stand
Upon the farthest earth remov‘d from thee;
For nimble thought can jump both sea and land,
As soon as think the place where he would be.

But, ah! thought kills me that I am not thought,
To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone,
But that so much of earth and water wrought,
I must attend time‘s leisure with my moan;

Receiving nought by elements so slow
But heavy tears, badges of either‘s woe.

Alas, the agony of being confined by the limitations of the physical form! Were I but merely a figment of thought, the cruel barriers of space would hold no power over me. I would effortlessly traverse vast distances to be by your side, regardless of how far you may be. The constraints of the tangible world would matter little, for the swiftness of thought knows no bounds, effortlessly surmounting oceans and continents in but an instant of contemplation. Despite this knowledge, the realisation that I am not a mere thought torments me, for I am unable to traverse great distances at will when you are absent. Instead, I am left to endure the sluggish passage of time with my heart heavy with sorrow. Thus, I find myself at the mercy of time’s languid tempo, receiving no respite from this melancholy but the steady stream of tears, poignant symbols of our shared anguish.