1. LOve from Time's wings hath stol'ne the feathers sure, He has, and put them to his owne; For howers of late as long as Daies endure, And very Minutes, How'rs are grown. 2. The various Motions of the turning Year, Belong not now at all to Mee: Each Summer's Night does Lucie's now appear, Each Winter Day Saint Barnabie. 3. How long a space, since first I lov'd, it is? To look into a glasse I fear; And am surpris'd with wonder, when I misse Grey haires and wrinkles there. 4. Th' old Patriarchs age, and not their happiness too, Why does hard fate to us restore? Why does Love's Fire thus to Mankind renew, What the Flood washt away before? 5. Sure those are happy people that complain O' the shortness of the daies of Man: Contract mine, Heaven, and bring them back [again] To th' ordinary Span. 6. If when your gift, long Life, I disapprove, I too ingratefull seem to be; Punish me justly, heaven; make Her to love, And then 'twill be too short for Mee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DRUM: THE NARRATIVE OF THE DEMON OF TEDWORTH by EDITH SITWELL TALL NETTLES by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS PROMETHEUS UNBOUND: THE RED SEA by AESCHYLUS PICTURESQUE; A FRAGMENT by JOHN AIKIN IT IS ENOUGH by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS VAIN EXCUSE by WALTER CONRAD ARENSBERG OUR HERITAGE by ISIDORE G. ASCHER |