Sonnet 56

Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not saidThy edge should blunter be than appetite,Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd,To-morrow sharpen'd in his former might:So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fillThy hungry eyes even till they wink with fullness,To-morrow see again, and do not killThe spirit of love with a perpetual dullness.Let this sad interim like the ocean beWhich parts the shore, where two contracted newCome daily to the banks, that, when they seeReturn of love, more blest may be the view; Else call it winter, which being full of care Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare.
My love, a fair bit of forewarning:I'll never grow tired of your thorning.Though you fill me up nightlywith your loving so spritely,my hunger's renewed by the morning.