Meditações - Time shall moult away his wings...

Out upon it, I have loved
Three whole days together;
And am like to love three more,—
If it prove fine weather.

Time shall moult away his wings,
Ere he shall discover
In the whole wide world again
Such a constant lover.

But the spite on’t is, no praise
Is due at all to me;
Love with me had made no stays
Had it any been but she.

Had it any been but she,
And that very face,
There had been at least, ere this,
A dozen in her place!

James Graham