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THIS day, Time winds th’ exhausted chain; | |
To run the twelvemonth’s length again: | |
I see, the old bald-pated fellow, | |
With ardent eyes, complexion sallow, | |
Adjust the unimpair’d machine, | 5 |
To wheel the equal, dull routine. | |
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The absent lover, minor heir, | |
In vain assail him with their prayer; | |
Deaf as my friend, he sees them press, | |
Nor makes the hour one moment less, | 10 |
Will you (the Major’s with the hounds, | |
The happy tenants share his rounds; | |
Coila’s fair Rachel’s care to-day, | |
And blooming Keith’s engaged with Gray) | |
From housewife cares a minute borrow, | 15 |
(That grandchild’s cap will do to-morrow,) | |
And join with me a-moralizing; | |
This day’s propitious to be wise in. | |
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First, what did yesternight deliver? | |
“Another year has gone for ever.” | 20 |
And what is this day’s strong suggestion? | |
“The passing moment’s all we rest on!” | |
Rest on—for what? what do we here? | |
Or why regard the passing year? | |
Will Time, amus’d with proverb’d lore, | 25 |
Add to our date one minute more? | |
A few days may—a few years must— | |
Repose us in the silent dust. | |
Then, is it wise to damp our bliss? | |
Yes—all such reasonings are amiss! | 30 |
The voice of Nature loudly cries, | |
And many a message from the skies, | |
That something in us never dies: | |
That on his frail, uncertain state, | |
Hang matters of eternal weight: | 35 |
That future life in worlds unknown | |
Must take its hue from this alone; | |
Whether as heavenly glory bright, | |
Or dark as Misery’s woeful night. | |
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Since then, my honour’d first of friends, | 40 |
On this poor being all depends, | |
Let us th’ important now employ, | |
And live as those who never die. | |
Tho’ you, with days and honours crown’d, | |
Witness that filial circle round, | 45 |
(A sight life’s sorrows to repulse, | |
A sight pale Envy to convulse), | |
Others now claim your chief regard; | |
Yourself, you wait your bright reward. | |