Time was old and on his way
Slowly toiled; it seemed the day
Ne’er would end; it seemed the Sun
Crawled the course he used to run.
But Love came, and when I showed
How Time lagged, he took a goad,
With its sharpened point of steel
Touched old Time upon his heel.
The laggard urged the tardy Sun
And like a boy began to run.
Stay, old Time, I pray thee stay!
Why this haste? Why make the day
All too short? Why make the Sun
Fly the course he used to run?