Madrigal

Why dost thou haste away
O Titan fair, the giver of the day?
It is not to carry news
To western wights, what stars in east appear?
Or dost thou think that here
Is left a sun, whose beams thy place may use?
Yet stay and well peruse,
What be her gifts, that make her equal thee,
Bend all thy light to see
In earthly clothes enclos'd a heavenly spark:
Thy running course cannot such beauties mark.
No, no, thy motions be
Hastened from us with bar of shadow dark,
Because that thou the author of our sight
Disdain'st we see thee stain'd with others' light.