Sonnet 51

Thus can my love excuse the slow offenceOf my dull bearer when from thee I speed:From where thou art why should I haste me thence?Till I return, of posting is no need.O, what excuse will my poor beast then find,When swift extremity can seem but slow?Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;In winged speed no motion shall I know:Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;Therefore desire of perfect'st love being made,Shall neigh--no dull flesh--in his fiery race;But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade; Since from thee going he went wilful-slow, Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go.
As I hear my slow horse's hooves drummingit's impatience that's set these loins humming.I've comfort in knowingdespite my slow going,I'll be quick when it comes to the coming.