Poem by Anne Hunter

Time

TIME may ambition's nest destroy,
Though on a rock 'tis perch'd so high,
May find dull av'rice in his cave,
And drag to light the sordid slave;
But from affection's temper'd chain
To free the heart he strives in vain.
The sculptur'd urn, the marble bust,
By time are crumbled with the dust;
But tender thoughts the muse has twin'd
For love, for friendship's brow design'd,
Shall still endure, shall still delight,
Till time is lost in endless night.

1. Song 4. THE moments fly, and we must part
2. Addressed to Mrs. G.
3. November, 1784
4. Song 6. IN airy dreams fond fancy flies
5. Song 11. THE anguish of my bursting heart

Jones Very Time ("There is no moment but whose flight doth bring")

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