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.