If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,

Injurious distance should not stop my way;

For then, despite of space, I would be brought,

From limits far remote, where thou dost stay.

No matter then although my foot did stand

Upon the farthest earth removed from thee;

For nimble thought can jump both sea and land,

As soon as think the place where he would be.

But, ah, thought kills me that I am not thought

To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone,

But that, so much of earth and water wrought,

I must attend time’s leisure with my moan.

  Receiving naught by elements so slow

  But heavy tears, badges of either's woe.

----- Shakespeare