Sonnet L

How heavy do I journey on the way,	1
When what I seek, my weary travel's end,	2
Doth teach that ease and that repose to say	3
'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!'	4
The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,	5
Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me,	6
As if by some instinct the wretch did know	7
His rider loved not speed, being made from thee:	8
The bloody spur cannot provoke him on	9
That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide;	10
Which heavily he answers with a groan,	11
More sharp to me than spurring to his side;	12
For that same groan doth put this in my mind;	13
My grief lies onward and my joy behind.	14