Sonnet 143


  Lo as a careful huswife runs to catch,
  One of her feathered creatures broke away,
  Sets down her babe and makes all swift dispatch
  In pursuit of the thing she would have stay:
  Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase,
  Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent,
  To follow that which flies before her face:
  Not prizing her poor infant's discontent;
  So run'st thou after that which flies from thee,
  Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind,
  But if thou catch thy hope turn back to me:
  And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind.
    So will I pray that thou mayst have thy Will,
    If thou turn back and my loud crying still.


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