Classic Poem

The course of a day is never steady.
The hours experiment with pain and pleasure.
By bedtime all you know is giddiness.
But how long is a day?
Some say as long as love.
But love leaves off early,
Before to-morrow and death set in.
How long has day on day been?
Some say for ever.
But starting from when?

From no sooner than first when
Eyes opened far and saw not all—
From no later than last when
Was time for no more than a day,
A day of guessing:
How long is it permitted
So little done so much to call?