- description
- # Sonnet 50
## Overview
"Sonnet 50" is a sonnet by William Shakespeare, presented as a distinct entry within a larger collection of poetry. It was extracted from a text file and is part of a digital workflow.
## Context
This sonnet is included in the collection "[Venus and Adonis, Lucrece, Sonnets, and Pericles (Facsimile Editions)](arke:01KG6S3KNZT62WVVW4VT384KPF)". The collection itself was derived from the file "[pdf-01KG6Q7Q25RHMFT3SJXPV18VFF.txt](arke:01KG6S2X2EBB305ENM00G16GWA)" and is part of the "[PDF Workflow Main Test 2026-01-30T00:26:53](arke:01KG6NWQ2H2K4PGG7H4ZHYCZ3Y)" collection. "Sonnet 50" follows "[Sonnet 49](arke:01KG6S4C66K97V8J5SS9DHQFRK)" and precedes "[Sonnet 51](arke:01KG6S4C6612A5Z6Y4HPEPCJYB)".
## Contents
The text of "Sonnet 50" is provided, detailing the speaker's weariness on a journey and the emotional burden of leaving behind their joy. The sonnet reflects on the slow pace of the horse carrying the speaker, which seems to mirror the speaker's own reluctance to travel away from their beloved. The poem's lines express a profound sense of longing and the pain of separation, with the speaker's grief lying ahead and their joy behind.
- description_generated_at
- 2026-01-30T06:26:22.648Z
- description_model
- gemini-2.5-flash-lite
- description_title
- Sonnet 50
- end_line
- 11134
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T06:23:29.732Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 11111
- text
- H Ow heauie doe I iourney on the way,
When what I fecke (my wearie trauels end)
Doth teach that eafe and that repofe to fay
Thus farre the miles are mcafurde from thy friend.
The beaft that beares me, tired with my woe,
Plods duly on, to beare that waight in me,
As if by fome inftinct the wretch did know
His rider lou’d not fpeed being made from thee:
The bloody fpurre cannot prouoke him on,
That fome-times anger thrusts into his hide,
Which heaully he anfwers with a grone,
D 3
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# SHAKESPEARES.
More sharpe to me then spurring to his side,
For that same grone doth put this in my mind,
My greefe lies onward and my joy behind.
51
- title
- Sonnet 50