名人诗歌|THE SONNETS by William Shakespeare (50)

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How heavy do I journey on the way, When what I seek, my weary travel's end, Doth teach that ease and that repose^{1 to say, 'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend！' The beast that bears me, tired with my woe2, Plods3 dully on, to bear that weight in me, As if by some instinct the wretch4 did know His rider lov'd not speed, being made from thee： The bloody5 spur cannot provoke him on, That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide, Which heavily he answers with a groan6, More sharp to me than spurring to his side； For that same groan doth put this in my mind, My grief lies onward7, and my joy behind.}