CAELICA: 45 by FULKE GREVILLE

Absence, the noble truce
Of Cupid's war,
Where, though desires want use,
They honoured are,
Thou art the just protection
Of prodigal affection;
Have thou the praise.
When bankrupt Cupid braveth,
Thy mines his credit saveth
With sweet delays.
Of wounds which presence makes
With beauty's shot
Absence the anguish slakes,
But healeth not.
Absence records the stories
Wherein desire glories;
Although she burn,
She cherisheth the spirits,
Where constancy inherits
And passions mourn.
Absence, like dainty clouds
On glorious-bright,
Nature's weak sense shrouds
From harming light.
Absence maintains the treasure
Of pleasure unto pleasure,
Sparing with praise.
Absence doth nurse the fire,
Which starves and feeds desire
With sweet delays.
Presence to every part
Of beauty ties;
Where wonder rules the heart,
There pleasure dies.
Presence plagues mind and senses
With modesty's defences;
Absence is free.
Thoughts do in absence venture
On Cupid's shadowed centre;
They wink and see.
But thoughts, be not so brave
With absent joy;
For you with that you have
Yourself destroy.
The absence which you glory
Is that which makes you sorry,
And burn in vain;
For thought is not the weapon
Wherewith thought's ease men cheapen,
Absence is pain.

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