Sonnet LXXXVII
SInce I did leaue the presence of my loue,
Many long weary dayes I haue outworne:
And many nights, that slowly seemd to moue,
Theyr sad protract from euening vntill morne.
For when as day the heauen doth adorne,
I wish that night the noyous day would end:
And when as night hath vs 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 euery minute seeme a myle.
So sorrow still doth seeme too long to last,
But ioyous houres doo fly away too fast.
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