LXXXVI.

Since I did leave the presence of my Love, Many long weary dayes I have outworne, And many nights, that slowly seemd to move Theyr sad protract from evening untill morn. For, when as day the heaven doth adorne, I wish that night the noyous day would end: And when as night hath us of light forlorne, I wish that day would shortly reascend. Thus I the time with expectation spend, And faine my griefe with chaunges to beguile, That further seemes his terme still to extend, And maketh every minute seem a myle. So sorrowe still doth seem too long to last; But ioyous houres do fly away too fast.