That none beguiled be by Time's quick flowing,
Lovers have in their hearts a clock still going;
For, though Time be nimble, his
Are
Are
Where Love hath his notions.
Hope is the mainspring on which moves desire,
And these do the less wheels, fear, joy, inspire;
The balance is thought,
And striking,
And ne'er giving o'er.
Occasion's the hand which still's moving round,
Till by it the critical hour may be found;
And, when that falls out, it will
Kisses,
Strange blisses,
And what you best like.
