Classic Poem

In time we see that silver drops
The craggy stones make soft;
The slowest snail in time, we see,
Doth creep and climb aloft.

With feeble puffs the tallest pine
In tract of time doth fall;
The hardest heart in time doth yield
To Venus' luring call.

Where chilling frost alate did nip,
There flasheth now a fire;
Where deep disdain bred noisome hate,
There kindleth now desire.

Time causeth hope to have his hap;
What care in time not eased?
In time I loathed that now I love,
In both content and pleased.