Lo! as a careful housewife runs to catch <br /> One of her feather'd creatures broke away, <br /> Sets down her babe and makes an swift dispatch <br /> In pursuit of the thing she would have stay, <br /> Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, <br /> Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent <br /> To follow that which flies before her face, <br /> Not prizing her poor infant's discontent; <br /> So runn'st thou after that which flies from thee, <br /> Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind; <br /> But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me, <br /> And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind: <br /> So will I pray that thou mayst have thy 'Will,' <br /> If thou turn back, and my loud crying still.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-cxliii/
