Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/45

That none beguiled be by Time's quick flowing,
Lovers have in their hearts a clock still going;
For, though time be nimble, his motions
Are quicker
And thicker5
Where love hath his notions.

Hope is the main-spring on which moves desire;
And these do the less wheels, Fear, Joy, inspire:
The balance is Thought, evermore
Clicking10
And striking,
And ne'er giving o'er.

Occasion's the hand which still 's moving round,
Till by it the critical hour may be found;
And, when that falls out, it will strike15
Kisses,
Strange blisses,
And what you best like.

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1

'Tis now, since I sat down before

That foolish fort, a heart,
(Time strangely spent), a year and more,
And still I did my part,

2

Made my approaches, from her hand5

Unto her lip did rise,
And did already understand
The language of her eyes;

3

Proceeded on with no less art—

My tongue was engineer:10
I thought to undermine the heart
By whispering in the ear.

4

When this did nothing, I brought down

Great cannon-oaths, and shot
A thousand thousand to the town;15
And still it yielded not.