Shade not that dial, night will blind too soon;
My non-aged day already points to noon;
How simple is my suit! how small my boon!
Nor do I beg this slender inch, to while
The time away, or falsely to beguile
My thoughts with joy; here’s nothing worth a smile.
No, no, ’tis not to please my wanton ears
With frantic mirth; I beg but hours, not years:
And what thou giv’st me, I will give to tears!
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