Absence is a short kind of sweetness
The moon hath sunk, and the Pleiades and midnight is gone, and the hour is passing, passing, and I lie lone.
I can neither eat nor sleep for thinking of you , my dearest love, I never touch even pudding.
When you have gone away,
No flowers more, methinks, will be -
No maple leaves in all the world -
Till you come back to me.
Two that have loved,
and now divided far,
Bound by loves bound,
in heart together are