Classic Poem

O! who art thou of more than mortal birth
With grace and beauty heaven-adorned and crowned?
And why those winged feet that scorn the Earth?
[ " ]My name is Opportunity — renowned,
Yet known to few — and my perpetual flight
Poises me on this wheel's incessant round:
As swift as thought it flies — swifter than light
My wings glance on, to dazzle and confound.
Over my face and bosom falling low,
My scattered locks, in front entwining meet,
Behind no long luxuriant tresses flow,
And thus scarce any know me when they greet,
Or knowing, see whether I come or go " . ...
Who follows thee with brow so overcast?
" It is Repentance ! mark! — the weak or slow
Who seize me not, by her are grappled fast.
And Thou who in vain words hath wasted so,
The moments full of fate, which never last,
Dost thou not see I've fled? Dost thou not know
That none can overtake " Occasion past!"[ " ]