235. Upon Time
Time was uponThe wing, to fly away;And I call’d onHim but awhile to stay;But he’d be gone,For aught that I could say.
He held out thenA writing, as he went,And ask’d me, whenFalse man would be contentTo pay againWhat God and Nature lent.
An hour-glass,In which were sands but few,As he did pass,He shew’d,—and told me tooMine end near was;—And so away he flew.