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Poems

or, A Miscellany of Sonnets, Satyrs, Drollery, Panegyricks, Elegies, &c. At the Instance, and Request of Several Friends, Times, and Occasions, Composed; and now at their command Collected, and Committed to the Press. By the Author, M. Stevenson
 
 

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Upon one Day that ran away, and laid the Key under the Door.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Upon one Day that ran away, and laid the Key under the Door.

Here Night and Day conspire a cheating flight,
For Day, they say, is run away by Night.
The Day is past, why Landlord! where's your rent:
Cou'd you not see the Day is almost spent.
Had you but kept the Watch well, I suppose,
'Twas no hard thing to know how the Day goes?
Day sold, and pawn'd, and put off what he might,
Though it were ne'er so dark. Day wou'd be light:
That he away with so much Rent should get,
Though Day were light, 'twas no light matter yet.
You had one Day a Tenant and wou'd fain
Your Eyes might one day see that Day again.

41

No, Landlord, no; you now may truly say,
And to your Cost too, you have lost a Day.
By twy-light, Day is neither Day nor Night;
What then? 'twixt both, he's an Hermaphrodite.
Day is departed in a Mist, I fear,
For Day is broke, yet does not Day appear:
His pale-face now does Day in Owl-light shrowd,
Truth is, at present Day's under a Cloud.
If you wou'd meet with Day you must be wiser,
And up betimes, for Day's an early riser.
Broad Day is early up, but you begin
To rouze, and then broad Day is shutting in.
From Sun to Sun, are the set-times of Pay,
But you should have been up by break of Day:
Yet, if you had? you had got nothing by't,
For Day was Cunning, and broke over Night.
Day, like a Candle, is gone out, and where,
None knows, except to th' other Hemisphear.
You must go look the Day with Candle light,
This Day was sure begotten in the Night.
The Lanthorn-looker, if he now began;
Might find the Day, but scarce the honest man.
Well, Day farewel; be't spoke to thy small praise,
There's little honesty found now a Day's.
In vain you do your self this trouble give,
You'l never make an even day while you live;
And yet who trusted him for any Summe,
Might have their mony, if the Day were come,

42

And, when will that be? when the Devil's blind;
You will this Day at the Greek Calends find.
For, if the Sun does hang behind the Change;
If you can find the Day before, 'tis strange.
Then to the Tavern, Landlord, let's away,
Chear up your heart, hang't, 'tis a broken Day;
And for your Rent, never thus Rent your Soul,
E're long you'l see Day at a little hole:
Look at the Counter, when you go that way;
Early enough, and you'l see peep of Day.
But, how now Landlord? what's the matter pray?
What, can't you sleep, you do so long for Day?
Have you a mind, Sir, to arrest the Day?
There's no such Serjeant as a Joshua.
Why, Landlord, Is the Quarter out I pray;
That you keep such a quarter for the Day?
Put off your passion, pray; true, 'tis a Summe:
But don't you know that a Pay-day will come?
I'le warrant you, do you but banish sorrow,
My life for yours Day comes again to morrow.
------ Phosphore redde Diem.