Does thy song lull the air?145
Thy falling teares keep faithfull time.
Does thy sweet-breath'd praire
Vp in clouds of incense climb?
Still at each sigh, that is, each stop,
A bead, that is, a tear, does drop.150
XXVI.
At these thy weeping gates
(Watching their watry motion),
Each wingèd moment waits:
Takes his tear, and gets him gone.
By thine ey's tinct enobled thus,155
Time layes him vp; he's pretious.
XXVII.
Time, as by thee He passes,
Makes thy ever-watry eyes
His hower-glasses.
By them His steps He rectifies.160
The sands He us'd, no longer please,
For His owne sands Hee'l use thy seas.
XXVIII.
Not, 'so long she liuèd,'
Shall thy tomb report of thee;
But, 'so long she grieuèd:'165
Thus must we date thy memory.
Others by moments, months, and yeares
Measure their ages; thou, by teares.
XXIX.
So doe perfumes expire,
So sigh tormented sweets, opprest170
With proud vnpittying fire.
Such teares the suffring rose, that's vext
With vngentle flames, does shed,
Sweating in a too warm bed.