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 30. That song again!—its sounds my bosom thrill
2. Sonnet 28. O, Genius! does thy Sun-resembling beam
3. Sonnet 63. Thy Genius, Colebrooke, faithless to his charge
4. Sonnet 25. Fortunate Vale! exulting Hill! dear Plain!
5. Sonnet 84. While one sere leaf, that parting Autumn gilds

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