Classic Poem

Suppose, that the sun had a tongue , and shou'd say,
May your journey be bless'd, with a very fine day:
Then, withdrawing his face , slip aside, with his light ,
And surround me, at once, with the coldness of night ;
What would Florimel say, to this trick of the sun?
I would say, cry'd the charmer , 'twas cruelly done.
Would you so, answer'd I? — have a care what you own ,
Who have wish'd me all blessings, yet granted me none .