The time when i first fell in love,
Which now I must lament;
The year wherein I lost such time
To compass my content.
The day wherein I saw too late
The follies of a lover;
The hour wherein I found such loss
As care cannot recover.
And last the minute of mishap,
Which makes me thus to plain
The doleful fruits of lover's suits,
Which labor lose in vain;
Don't make me solemnly protest,
As I with pain do prove,
There is no time,year, day,nor hour
nor minute,good to love. |
