Man

I saw Time running by—

Stop, Thief, was all the cry.

I heard a voice say, Peace!

Let this vain clamour cease.

Can ye bring lightning back

That leaves upon its track

Men, horses, oak trees dead?

Canst bring back Time? it said.

There’s nothing in Man’s mind

Can catch Time up behind;

In front of that fast Thief

There’s no one—end this grief.

Tut, what is Man? How frail!

A grain, a little nail,

The wind, a change of cloth—

A fly can give him death.