“’Tis folly’s blank, and wisdom’s highest prize!”
I ask’d a spirit lost, but oh, the shriek
That pierc’d my soul! I shudder while I speak!
It cried, “a particle! a speck! a mite
Of endless years, duration infinite!”
Of things inanimate, my dial I
Consulted, and it made me this reply—
“Time is the season fair of living well,
The path of glory, or the path of hell!”
I ask’d my Bible, and methinks it said,