Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
Of 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 wingèd 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.
You remember my slow horse from the last sonnet?
Well, I love you so much I've found a way
to forgive him. See, why would I want to run
away from you? It's comin' back, that's when
I wanna go quickly. Aww, he's gonna seem even
slower then, isn't he because no matter how
fast I go it's not gonna be fast enough? I'll
wanna fly on the wind. Jus' goin' so fast
it's almost like I'm not really moving. Then,
no horse can go as fast as I really want it
to, can it? So, I suppose, as a thank you
I should, maybe, just run myself and let the
horse do whatever it wants.
Or I could just take the car.
