 | Poems |  |
Time Recover'd.
Come (my dear) whilst youth conspiresWith the warmth of our desires;
Envious Time about thee watches,
And some Grace each minute snatches:
Now a spirit, now a Ray
From thy Eye he steals away,
Now he blasts some blooming Rose
Which upon thy fresh Cheek grows;
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Now the Rubies doth impair
Of thy lips; and with sure hast
All thy wealth will take at last;
Onely that of which Thou mak'st
Use in time, from time Thou tak'st.
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