John Milton's----ON TIME
On Time
FLy envious Time, till thou run out thy race, Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours, Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets pace; And glut thy self with what thy womb devours, Which is no more then what is false and vain, [ 5 ] And meerly mortal dross; So little is our loss, So little is thy gain. For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd, And last of all, thy greedy self consum'd, [ 10 ] Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss With an individual kiss; And Joy shall overtake us as a flood, When every thing that is sincerely good And perfectly divine, [ 15 ] With Truth, and Peace, and Love shall ever shine About the supreme Throne Of him, t' whose happy-making sight alone, When once our heav'nly-guided soul shall clime, Then all this Earthy grosnes quit, [ 20 ] Attir'd with Stars, we shall for ever sit, Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee O Time. |
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