"How slowly time creeps till my Phœbe returns! While amidst the soft zephyr's cool breezes I burn. Methinks if I knew whereabouts he would tread, I could breathe on his wings and 'twould melt down the lead. Fly swifter, ye minutes, bring hither my dear, And rest so much longer for 't when she is here."
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Original Language: English
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Sources
John Byrom, A Pastoral
https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Time
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Time
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