My sighes may haue the power to thawe the frost,
    Which I from hence should swiftly send you thither,
    Yet not so swift, as you come slowly hither. 
    How many a time, hath Phebe from her wayne,
    With Phoebus fires fill’d vp her hornes againe; 20
    Shee through her Orbe, still on her course doth range,
    But you keep yours still, nor for me will change. 
    The Sunne that mounted the sterne Lions back,
    Shall with the Fishes shortly diue the Brack,
    But still you keepe your station, which confines
    You, nor regard him trauelling the signes. 
    Those ships which when you went, put out to Sea,
    Both to our Groenland, and Virginia,
    Are now return’d, and Custom’d haue their fraught,
    Yet you arriue not, nor returne me ought. 30
      The Thames was not so frozen yet this yeare,
    As is my bosome, with the chilly feare
    Of your not comming, which on me doth light,
    As on those Climes, where halfe the world is night. 
      Of euery tedious houre you haue made two,
    All this long Winter here, by missing you: 
    Minutes are months, and when the houre is past,
    A yeare is ended since the Clocke strooke last,
    When your Remembrance puts me on the Racke,
    And I should Swound to see an Almanacke, 40
    To reade what silent weekes away are slid,
    Since the dire Fates you from my sight haue hid. 
      I hate him who the first Deuisor was
    Of this same foolish thing, the Hower-glasse,
    And of the Watch, whose dribbling sands and Wheele,
    With their slow stroakes, make mee too much to feele
    Your slackenesse hither, O how I doe ban,
    Him that these Dialls against walles began,
    Whose Snayly motion of the moouing hand,
    (Although it goe) yet seeme to me to stand; 50
    As though at Adam it had first set out
    And had been stealing all this while about,
    And when it backe to the first point should come,
    It shall be then iust at the generall Doome. 
      The Seas into themselues retract their flowes. 
    The changing Winde from euery quarter blowes,
    Declining Winter in the Spring doth call,
    The Starrs rise to vs, as from vs they fall;
    Those Birdes we see, that leaue vs in the Prime,
    Againe in Autumne re-salute our Clime. 60
    Sure, either Nature you from kinde hath made,
    Or you delight else to be Retrograde. 
      But I perceiue by your attractiue powers,
    Like an Inchantresse you haue charm’d the bowers
    Into short minutes, and haue drawne them back,
    So that of vs at London, you doe lack
    Almost a yeare, the Spring is scarce begonne
    There where you liue, and Autumne almost done.