Classic Poem

Why heard, amidst these shades, the tongue of time,
Telling the number of the passing hours?
For other thoughts, and feelings more sublime,
Than those of earth, amidst these scenes are ours.
What thoughts are theirs of time, whose mortal part
Alone is subject to its stern controul;
Who in this life can have no more a part,
Living the life of the immortal soul?
Say, do they mourn their days, and years misspent,
Neglected opportunities recall;
Or joy, that they improved the talents lent,
Nor lived as though this earthly life were all?
Ah, who can tell what are their thoughts, but he,
Who with them shares their own eternity?