In the hot glare of midday sun
Until the weary way be done.
So, fast and far she sped and flew
Into the depths of ether blue;
And we, too late, make bitter cry,
“Come back, dear Opportunity!”
In vain: the fleet, unpausing wings
Stay not in their bright journeyings;
And sadly sweet as funeral bell
The answer drops, “Farewell! Farewell!”