By the gaily-circling glass We can see how minutes pass; by the hollow cask, are told How the waning night grows old. Soon, too soon, the busy day, Drives us from our sport away: What have we with day to do? Sons of care 'twas made for you! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TRAFALGAR SQUARE by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES THE SANDPIPER by CELIA LEIGHTON THAXTER CANTIC. CHAP. 2 by JOSEPH BEAUMONT EPITAPH ON THE TOMBSTONE OF A CHILD, LAST OF SEVEN THAT DIED BEFORE by APHRA BEHN PSALM 19. THE FIRST SIX VERSES by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |