Old-fashioned uncouth measurer of the day, I love to watch thy filtering burden pass; Though some there are that live would bid thee stay; But these view reasons through a different glass From him, Time's meter, who addresses thee. The world has joys which they may deem as such; The world has wealth to season vanity, And wealth is theirs to make their vainness much: But small to do with joys and Fortune's fee Hath he, Time's chronicler, who welcomes thee. So jog thou on, through hours of doomed distress; So haste thou on the glimpse of hopes to come; As every sand-grain counts a trouble less, As every drained glass leaves me nearer home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON AN INFANT WHICH DIED BEFORE BAPTISM by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE BUNCHES OF GRAPES by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE CUPID AND CAMPASPE, FR. ALEXANDER AND CAMPASPE by JOHN LYLY ODE FOR THE AMERICAN DEAD IN ASIA by THOMAS MCGRATH THIS COMPOST: 2. by WALT WHITMAN RETURN by KENNETH SLADE ALLING CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 2. OF GRATITUDE by WILLIAM BASSE |