Jasper Mayne

(1604-1672 / England)

Time

TIME is the feather'd thing,
   And, whilst I praise
The sparklings of thy looks and call them rays,
   Takes wing,
   Leaving behind him as he flies
An unperceived dimness in thine eyes.
   His minutes, whilst they're told,
   Do make us old;
   And every sand of his fleet glass,

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