Classic Poem

Lo, how that Time doth still disturbe my peace,
And hath his course to my confusion bent;
For when th' occasion kindly giues consent,
That I should feed vpon Aurora's face:
Then mounted on the chariot of the Sunne,
That tyrant Time doth post so fast away,
That whilst I but aduise what I should say,
I'm forc'd to end ere I haue well begun:
And then againe it doth so slowly flie,
Whilst I leaue her whom I hold onely deare,
Each minute makes an houre, each houre a yeare,
Yeares lusters seeme, one luster ten to me.
Thus changing course to change my state I know,
In presence time proues swift, in absence slow.