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UPON TIME

 Time was upon
The wing, to fly away;
And I call'd on
Him but awhile to stay;
But he'd be gone,
For aught that I could say.
He held out then A writing, as he went, And ask'd me, when False man would be content To pay again What God and Nature lent.
An hour-glass, In which were sands but few, As he did pass, He shew'd,--and told me too Mine end near was;-- And so away he flew.

Poem by Robert Herrick
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things