On Time


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


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


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


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


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


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


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

IMG_1909And perfectly divine,
With truth, and peace, and love, shall ever shine,
About the supreme throne


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


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


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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