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 morne.
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 seeme a myle.
So sorrow still doth seeme too long to last,
but joyous houres doo fly away too fast.