Caelica, Sonnet LVI

CAElica, you blame me that I suffer not,
Absence with ioy, Authority with ease:
Caelica, what Powers can Natures inside blot?
They must looke pale without that feele disease.

You say that you doe like faire Tagus streames,
Swell ouer those that would your channells choake,
Yeelding due tribute vnto Phaebus beames,
Yet not made dry with losse of Vapours smoke.

Caelica, 'tis true, Birds that doe swimme and flye,
The waters can endure to haue and misse:
Their feet for seas, their wings are for the skie,
Nor errour is it, that of Nature is.
I like the fish bequeath'd to Neptunes bed,
No sooner tast of ayre, but I am dead.