Let not thy youth and false delights
Cheat thee of life; those heady flights
But waste thy time, which posts away
Like winds unseen, and swift as they.
Beauty is but mere paint, whose dye
With Time's breath will dissolve and fly;
'Tis wax, 'tis water, 'tis a glass,
It melts, breaks, and away doth pass.
'Tis like a rose which in the dawn
The air with gentle breath doth fawn
And whisper to, but in the hours
Of night is sullied with smart showers.
Life spent is wish'd for but in vain,
Nor can past years come back again.
Happy the man, who in this vale
Redeems his time, shutting out all
Thoughts of the world, whose longing eyes
Are ever pilgrims in the skies,
That views his bright home, and desires
To shine amongst those glorious fires!