Alas, Alas, that I am betrayed By my flying days, it is then the looking glass, Not the mind, if self love do not tarnish it Alas that he who foolish frets in desire Not heeding the flying time Finds himself, like me, at one instant, old. Nor know I how to repent, nor do I make myself ready, Nor advise myself with death at the door. Enemy of myself Vainly I pour out plaints & sighs Since there is no harm equal to lost time | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RESURRECTION, IMPERFECT by JOHN DONNE SHILOH; A REQUIEM by HERMAN MELVILLE THE LONG AGO by BENJAMIN FRANKLIN TAYLOR PHRYGES: JUSTICE PROTECTS THE KING by AESCHYLUS LILIES: 19. 'WHEN YOU THOUGHT I WAS 'FAR AWAY,' I WAS DREAMING by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |