Classic Poem

Time steals away
Like nightly thief; we dream not of his going
O blind and deaf! by day
We see him not — night, hear him not — unknowing
The beggars we are made — our dear life ta'en —
The treasure that we never can regain

Stop, slippery thing!
Ah no — 'tis gone! it neither stops nor lingers;
And vain is following
I grasp'd it as it pass'd, but through my fingers,
Eel-like, it slipt. I thought 'twas mine for using,
Yet, in that thought, still was the treasure losing.

Lost day! lost hour!
Wherein our strength, our breath, our life were wasted:
Had we in them gain'd power
Of soul, or of the Unending Mystery tasted,
They were not lost; for upward thus to tend,
And grow to God, is surely our great end.

Time steals away
From earth-encumber'd minds, which cannot hold it;
And sloth and empty play
Hang on our life, like garments, and enfold it.
E'en this hour is not mine; for see! 'tis gone,
Full of regrets for that had already flown.

Why mourn lost time?
The immortal spirit knows no calendar!
And in the invisible clime
No dial tells of the fleeting messenger.
The earth alone is mark'd with shade and night;
Beyond its bourn, all, all is day and light.

Fleet, fleet away,
Days, months, and years, until ye have no meaning,
But are lost in endless day;
When light and glory, whereof we have no weening,
Shall burst upon the disencumber'd mind,
Which shall see things with an eye that now is blind.