The sands within each glass,

The brief, illusive moments, pass!

Half unawares we mark their drift

Till the awakened heart cries out,—Alas!

Alas, the fair occasion fled,

The precious chance to action all unwed!

And murmurs in its depths the old refrain,—

Had we but known betimes what now we know in vain!

When the veil from the eyes is lifted

The seer’s head is gray;