Classic Poem

T ime , faster then my Thought away doth hast:
Who thought not to haue lost It but for gaine
But, as that thought was present, Time was past:
So, left mee but to thinke that Thought was vaine.
While I am musing how my Time to spend,
Time spends It selfe, and me: but how, I muse!
So, still I muse, while Time drawes on mine ende:
Thus, Time doth me, and I do it abuse.
I thinke, and while I thinke, I id'ly, acte:
(Yet, Thought's no idle action of the Minde )
So, idle actions Time , and mee haue wrackt
Yet, in these Ruines , I my making finde:
For, I am made, by musing, what I am
That's one that lynes the Ornaments of Fame .