On Time
Fly envious Time, till thou run out thy race;
Call on the lazy leaden-stepping Hours,
Whose speed is but the heavy Plummet’s pace;
And glut thyself with what thy womb devours,
Which is no more then what is false and vain,
And meerly mortal dross;
So little is our loss,
So little is thy gain.
For, when as each thing bad thou hast entombed,
And, last of all, thy greedy self consumed,
Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss
With an individual kiss,
And Joy shall overtake us as a flood;
When every thing that is sincerely good,
And perfectly divine,
With Truth, and Peace, and Love, shall ever shine
About the supreme throne
Of him, to whose happy-making sight alone
When once our heavenly-guided soul shall climb,
Then, all this Earthy grossness quit,
Attired with stars we shall for ever sit,
Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O Time!
(Milton, The Complete English Poems, Everyman’s Library 97, p.23)
I just received in the mail this used edition of Milton’s Poems. Flipping through the pages, I stumbled on this poem. Not sure how I feel about it but it sure hit a chord somewhere in me. A chord I may not be willing to admit was there. I don’t know but, frankly speaking, how I feel should not matter much. It’s enough to share this poem with anyone willing to read it.
What’s the last poem you have read? When was it?
(I know, asking you a question is kind of stupid since there is no way for you to comment on the blog. That being said, if you want to tell me you’re more than welcome send me en email.)
Published: 2025/09/18