47
ON THEDEPARTURE OF A FRIEND.
Farewell, my friend, old Time with niggard hand
Has number'd out the days I've spent with thee,
And with insatiate scythe sever'd the thread
Which lately bound them to futurity:
But still there s a cord too firmly twin'd
Even to yield to him, till that dread hour
When all his power shall cease and be extinct;
For in the cutting this firm tie asunder,
His weapon of destruction Time shall snap.
Has number'd out the days I've spent with thee,
And with insatiate scythe sever'd the thread
Which lately bound them to futurity:
But still there s a cord too firmly twin'd
Even to yield to him, till that dread hour
When all his power shall cease and be extinct;
For in the cutting this firm tie asunder,
His weapon of destruction Time shall snap.
