The Passionate Pilgrim | Page 5

drives away dark
dismal-dreaming night:
The night so pack'd, I post unto my pretty;

Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight;
Sorrow chang'd to
solace, solace mix'd with sorrow;
For why, she sigh'd and bade me
come tomorrow.
Were I with her, the night would post too soon;
But now are minutes
added to the hours;
To spite me now, each minute seems a moon;

Yet not for me, shine sun to succour flowers!
Pack night, peep day;
good day, of night now borrow:
Short, night, to-night, and length
thyself to-morrow.
End of Project Gutenberg Etext of The Passionate Pilgrim by
Shakespeare PG has multiple editions of William Shakespeare's
Complete Works
from http://www.dertz.in/