The other two, slight air, and purging fire, <br />Are both with thee, wherever I abide, <br />The first my thought, the other my desire, <br />These present-absent with swift motion slide. <br />For when these quicker elements are gone <br />In tender embassy of love to thee, <br />My life being made of four, with two alone, <br />Sinks down to death, oppressed with melancholy. <br />Until life's composition be recured, <br />By those swift messengers returned from thee, <br />Who even but now come back again assured, <br />Of thy fair health, recounting it to me. <br />This told, I joy, but then no longer glad, <br />I send them back again and straight grow sad.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-45-the-other-two-slight-air-and-purging-fire/
