Ah when will this long weary day have end, And lend me leave to come unto my love? How slowly do the hours their numbers spend! How slowly does sad Time his feathers move!

The fish once caught, new bait will hardly bite.

Then came October, full of merry glee.

All love is sweet Given or returned And its familiar voice wearies not ever.

Who will not mercy unto others show, How can he mercy ever hope to have?

But times do change and move continually.

The noblest mind the best contentment has