| Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900. |
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| Sir John Suckling. 1609–1642 |
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| 328. When, Dearest, I but think of Thee |
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| WHEN, dearest, I but think of thee, | |
| Methinks all things that lovely be | |
| Are present, and my soul delighted: | |
| For beauties that from worth arise | |
| Are like the grace of deities, | 5 |
| Still present with us, tho' unsighted. | |
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| Thus while I sit and sigh the day | |
| With all his borrow'd lights away, | |
| Till night's black wings do overtake me, | |
| Thinking on thee, thy beauties then, | 10 |
| As sudden lights do sleepy men, | |
| So they by their bright rays awake me. | |
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| Thus absence dies, and dying proves | |
| No absence can subsist with loves | |
| That do partake of fair perfection: | 15 |
| Since in the darkest night they may | |
| By love's quick motion find a way | |
| To see each other by reflection. | |
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| The waving sea can with each flood | |
| Bathe some high promont that hath stood | 20 |
| Far from the main up in the river: | |
| O think not then but love can do | |
| As much! for that 's an ocean too, | |
| Which flows not every day, but ever! | |
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