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NE'ER ASK THE HOUR.

I.

NE'ER ask the hour-what is it to us
How Time deals out his treasures?

The golden moments, lent us thus,
Are not his coin, but Pleasure's.

If counting them over could add to their blisses,
I'd number each glorious second;

But moments of joy are, like LESBIA's kisses,
Too quick and sweet to be reckon❜d.
Then fill the cup-what is it to us
How Time his circle measures?

The fairy hours we call up thus,
Obey no wand but Pleasure's!

II.

Young Joy ne'er thought of counting hours,
Till Care, one summer's morning,
Set up, among his smiling flowers,

A dial, by way of warning.

But Joy loved better to gaze on the sun,

As long as its light was glowing,

Than to watch with old Care how the shadow

stole on,

And how fast that light was going.

So fill the cup-what is it to us
How Time his circle measures?
The fairy hours we call up thus,
Obey no wand but Pleasure's.

SAIL ON, SAIL ON.

I.

SAIL on, sail on, thou fearless bark-
Where ever blows the welcome wind,
It cannot lead to scenes more dark,

More sad than those we leave behind.
Each wave that passes seems to say

66

Though death beneath our smile may be,

"Less cold we are, less false than they,

"Whose smiling wreck'd thy hopes and thee.”

II.

Sail on, sail on-through endless space

Through calm-through tempest-stop no more;

The stormiest sea's a resting-place

To him who leaves such hearts on shore.

Or, if some desert land we meet,

Where never yet false-hearted men Profaned a world, that else were sweet→→ Then rest thee, bark, but not till then.

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