Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Time ("Whether we smile or weep…")

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.

Speeding, still speeding on, How, none can toil;Soon ho will bear us To Heaven or Hell.

Dare not then waste thy days, Reckless and proud;Lest, while ye dream not, Death spread thy shroud.