When, Dearest, I But Think On Thee

When, dearest, I but think on thee,
   Methinks all things that lovely be
   Are present, and my soul delighted:
     For beauties that from worth arise
     Are like the grace of deities,
   Still present with us, though unsighted.

    Thus while I sit and sigh the day
   With all his spreading lights away,
   Till night's black wings do overtake me:
    Thinking on thee, thy beauties then,
    As sudden lights do sleeping men,
  So they by their bright rays awake me.

   Thus absence dies, and dying proves
  No absence can consist with loves
  That do partake of fair perfection:
    Since in the darkest night they may
    By their quick motion find a way
  To see each other by reflection.

   The waving sea can with such flood
  Bathe some high palace that hath stood
  Far from the main up in the river:
    Oh think not then but love can do
    As much, for that's an ocean too,
  That flows not every day, but ever.