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O God! methinks it were a happy life
To be no better than a homely swain;
To read more
O God! methinks it were a happy life
To be no better than a homely swain;
To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
To carve out dials, quaintly, point by point,
Thereby to see the minutes, how they run--
How many makes the hour full complete,
How many hours brings about the day,
How many days will finish up the year,
How many years a mortal man may live;
When this is known, then to divide the times--
So many hours must I tend my flock,
So many hours must I take my rest,
So many hours must I contemplate,
So many hours must I sport myself;
So many days my ewes have been with young,
So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean,
So many months ere I shall shear the fleece.
So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years,
Passed over to the end they were created,
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Ah, what a life were this!
Once at a potent leader's voice I stayed;
Once I went back when a good monarch prayed;
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Once at a potent leader's voice I stayed;
Once I went back when a good monarch prayed;
Mortals, howe'er we grieve, howe'er deplore,
The flying shadow will return no more.
Time is
Too Slow for those who Wait,
Too Swift for those who Fear,
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Time is
Too Slow for those who Wait,
Too Swift for those who Fear,
Too Long for those who Grieve,
Too Short for those who Rejoice;
But for those who Love,
Time is not.
- Henry Jackson van Dyke,
I mark my hours by shadow;
Mayest thou mark thine
By sunshine.
I mark my hours by shadow;
Mayest thou mark thine
By sunshine.
The Natural Clock-work by the might One
Wound up at first, and ever since have gone.
The Natural Clock-work by the might One
Wound up at first, and ever since have gone.
I go away and come again each day,
But thou shalt go away and ne'er return.
I go away and come again each day,
But thou shalt go away and ne'er return.
I must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day: the
night cometh, when no read more
I must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day: the
night cometh, when no man can work.
Live ye, he says, I flee.
Live ye, he says, I flee.
Amende to-day and slack not,
Deythe cometh and warneth not,
Tyme passeth and speketh not.
Amende to-day and slack not,
Deythe cometh and warneth not,
Tyme passeth and speketh not.
