TIME WAITS FOR NO MAN.
O father Time one moment tarry!
I have so much, so much to do,
And death will find my work unfinished,
For every day brings something new.
O Time, dear Time, what doth it matter?
A month, a year, is naught to thee,
But hours, minutes, even seconds,
To me doth make eternity.
Much time I feel that I have squandered;
So many hours, so many years.—
The misspent time that now confronts me
Will ever cause me bitter tears.
Life is so sweet when breaks the morning,
But groweth bitter by the noon;
By night I am so worn and weary,
E’en death doth seem to me a boon.
O Time give back my happy childhood,
And I will bless thee ever, aye;
My every task with joy performing;
And not from duty will I stray.
E’en Time seemed filled with deepest pity,
But cried, “O man, it is too late
To save the years that thou hast squandered;
So I must leave thee to thy fate.”
“Farewell O man! I must not tarry;
Long years ago my work began.
In vain, in vain is all thy pleading
For Time and Tide wait not for man.”
Farewell then Time, farewell for ever;
For there is naught but death for me.
A slave I have been to thee ever,
But now, in dying, I am free.