Overdone

Time was old and on his way Slowly toiled; it seemed the day Ne’er would end; it seemed the Sun Crawled the course he used to run.

But Love came, and when I showed How Time lagged, he took a goad, With its sharpened point of steel Touched old Time upon his heel. The laggard urged the tardy Sun And like a boy began to run.

Stay, old Time, I pray thee stay! Why this haste? Why make the day All too short? Why make the Sun Fly the course he used to run?