It asks a little of us here. It asks of us a certain height. So when at times the mob is swayed To carry praise or blame too far, We may take something like a star To stay our minds on and be staid.
Goe to my Love where she is carelesse layd Yet in her winter's bowere not well awake; Tell her the joyous time will not be staid Unlesse she doe him by the forelock take.Edmund Spenser
Too late I staid, forgive the crime, Unheeded flew the hours; How noiseless falls the foot of Time That only treads on flow'rs! What eye with clear account remarks The ebbing of his glass, When all its sands are diamond sparks That dazzle as they pass? Ah! who to sober measurement Time's happy swiftness brings, When birds of Paradise have lent Their plumage for his wings?
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