On Time

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“FLY, envious Time, till thou run out thy race;

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Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours,
Whose speed is but the heavy plummet’s pace;

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And glut thyself with what thy womb devours,
Which is no more then what is false and vain,
And merely mortal dross;

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So little is our loss,
So little is thy gain.

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For when, as each thing bad thou hast entomb’d

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And last of all thy greedy self consumed,
Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss,
With an individual kiss;

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And Joy shall overtake us, as a flood,
When every thing that is sincerely good,

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With truth, and peace, and love, shall ever shine,
About the supreme throne

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Of Him, to whose happy-making sight, alone,
When once our heavenly-guided soul shall climb,

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Then all this earthly grossness quit,
Attired with stars, we shall for ever sit,

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Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O Time!”

Written by John Milton.

 

(Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this blog and/or photographs without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to [Mosaicross] with appropriate and specific direction to the original content).

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