Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/151

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TIME.
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Will the shade go back on thy dial-plate?  Will thy sun stand still on his way?Both hasten on: and thy spirit's fateBests on the point of life's little date;  Then live while 'tis called to-day.
Life's waning hours, like the sibyl's page,  As they lessen, in value rise;Oh, rouse thee and live! nor deem man's ageStands in the length of his pilgrimage,  But in days that are truly wise.
Inscription on a Sun-Dial.
Save when the sun's resplendent ray May gild the passing hour,To mark the minutes on their way I lose the ready power.
So only can that time be blest, And called by man his own,In which the sunbeam of the breast, The Conscience, may have shone!
Time.
Whether we smile or weep, Time wings his flight;Days, hours, they never creep; Life speeds like light.
Whether we laugh or groan, Seasons change fast;Nothing hath ever flown Swift as the past.
Whether we chafe or chide, On is Time's pace;Never his noiseless steps Doth he retrace.
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