So as the rich, whose blessed key...
Sonnet 52So am I as the rich, whose blessed key
Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he will not every hour survey, For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, Since, seldom coming, in the long year set, Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, Or captain jewels in the carcanet. So is the time that keeps you as my chest, Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide, To make some special instant special blest, By new unfolding his imprison'd pride. Blessed are you, whose worthiness gives scope, Being had, to triumph, being lack'd, to hope. |
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I’m like someone with a stash of treasure, who resists the temptation to look at his hoard the whole time so it’s more thrilling when he eventually does so.
That’s why high-days and holidays are infrequent: as there are not many of them it’s like precious jewels setting off a crown. Similarly, the time we spend apart is my treasure-chest, or the wardrobe hiding a costly piece of clothing. I keep if for special occasions, to gloat on just sometimes.
You’re marvellous: when you’re in someone’s company, they’re overjoyed – and when you’re out of it, they still enjoy the hope that they will see you soon.