Poems | ||
AFTER A PLEASANT EVENING.
The brighter the moments, the swifter they fly;
The sweeter the draught is, the quicker 'tis flowing
Ever;
'Mongst laughs, such as yours, how the moments fleet by,
Winged by friendship and wit, O I never am knowing,
Never.
The sweeter the draught is, the quicker 'tis flowing
Ever;
'Mongst laughs, such as yours, how the moments fleet by,
Winged by friendship and wit, O I never am knowing,
Never.
Two companions, how different! old Time has by turns;
And, as he's with either, just so is his speeding
Ever;
If Care is his fellow, Care's dull pace he learns;
If Mirth's flight he shares, never jogging he's needing,
Never.
And, as he's with either, just so is his speeding
Ever;
If Care is his fellow, Care's dull pace he learns;
If Mirth's flight he shares, never jogging he's needing,
Never.
Ah, if you would learn what, at times, is his pace,
Just mate him with Friendship and Love, for, old fellow,
Ever,
Never swifter he flies than when with them's his race,
When joy laughs him on and when wine makes him mellow,
Never.
Just mate him with Friendship and Love, for, old fellow,
Ever,
Never swifter he flies than when with them's his race,
When joy laughs him on and when wine makes him mellow,
Never.
But he pities us most when he seems least to heed
How he hurries the dearest of moments to leave us;
Ever
If he frolics them from us with pitiless speed,
He never uncomforted cares so to grieve us,
Never.
How he hurries the dearest of moments to leave us;
Ever
If he frolics them from us with pitiless speed,
He never uncomforted cares so to grieve us,
Never.
For, in fact, if he speeds them so swiftly away
That they're not enjoyed half enough ere they have vanished,
Ever,
Yet their memory, to cheer us, he bids with us stay;
He has never the heart to see that from us banished,
Never.
That they're not enjoyed half enough ere they have vanished,
Ever,
Yet their memory, to cheer us, he bids with us stay;
He has never the heart to see that from us banished,
Never.
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Then a health to old Time! may we all of us long
In his best and his swiftest of moments be nigh him Ever,
And never such meetings as this may we wrong
By losing their memories, bequeathed to us by him, Never.
In his best and his swiftest of moments be nigh him Ever,
And never such meetings as this may we wrong
By losing their memories, bequeathed to us by him, Never.
Poems | ||