In sober birthdays, speaks to me;
Far otherwise—of time it tells
Lavished[267] unwisely, carelessly,
Of counsel mocked—of talents made,
Haply,[268] for high and pure designs,
But oft, like Israel’s incense, laid
Upon unholy, earthly shrines,
Of nursing many a wrong desire,
Of wandering after Love too far,
And taking every meteor fire