Time is a taper waning fast!
Use it, man, well whilst it doth last:
Lest burning downwards it consume away,
Before thou hast commenced the labour of the day.
Time is a pardon of a goodly soil!
Plenty shall crown thine honest toil:
But if uncultivated, rankest weeds
Shall choke the efforts of the rising seeds.
Time is a leasehold of uncertain date!
Granted to thee by everlasting fate.
Neglect not thou, ere thy short term expire,
To save thy soul from ever-burning fire.
Imitation Of The Olden Poets
Edward Lear
(1)
Poem topics: away, fate, fire, soul, crown, fast, short, labour, save, Valentine's Day, thine, time, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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