Classic Poem

I.

To him who in an hour must die
Not swifter seems that hour to fly
Than slow the minutes seem to me
Which keep me from the sight of thee.

II.

Not more that trembling wretch would give
Another day or year to live
Than I to shorten what remains
Of that long hour which thee detains.

III.

Oh! come to my impatient arms,
Oh! come with all thy heav'nly charms,
At once to justify and pay
The pain I feel from this delay.