The flight of Time will through the cycles wing
And one age follow on another's path;
The leaves of May will feel November's wrath
And January blossom into Spring;
And side by side we, onward wandering,
Shall learn the lesson that each season hath,
The bud and shard, the glow and aftermath
The hopes that vanish and the dreams that cling.

A day is like a swallow's shadow cast
On sleeping waters; for an instant there
Etched by the restless pinion in mid-air,
Vague and elusive as the fleeting past;
So let us cleave to gladness in our day
While Time, that miser, hoards the years away.