A PLEA
Take you such gold as I have, old Time;
’Tis a trifling thing that you win;
For what is gold but a sordid lure,
All blotched with the blood of men?
’Tis little I care for the filthy stuff,
And less is my need thereof;
Take you such gold as I have, old Time,
But leave me a little love!
Take you the cold world’s praise, old Time;