Poem by Anna Seward

Sonnet 8. Short is the time the oldest Being lives

    TRANSLATION.

Short is the time the oldest Being lives,
    Nor has Longevity one hour to waste;
    Life's duties are proportion'd to the haste
    With which it fleets away;—each day receives
Its task, that if neglected, surely gives
    The morrow double toil.—Ye, who have pass'd
    In idle sport the days that fled so fast,
    Days, that nor Grief recalls, nor Care retrieves,
At length be wise, and think, that of the part
    Remaining in that vital period given,
How short the date, and at the prospect start,
Ere to the extremest verge your steps be driv'n!
    Nor let a moment unimprov'd depart,
    But view it as the latest trust of Heav'n!

1. Sonnet 25. Fortunate Vale! exulting Hill! dear Plain!
2. Sonnet 71. While Summer Roses all their glory yield
3. Sonnet 58. Not the slow Hearse, where nod the sable plumes
4. Sonnet 15. The evening shines in May's luxuriant pride
5. Sonnet 11. How sweet to rove, from summer sun-beams veil'd

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