By the gaily-circling glass We can see how minutes pass; by the hollow cask, are told How the waning night grows old. Soon, too soon, the busy day, Drives us from our sport away: What have we with day to do? Sons of care 'twas made for you! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NEEDLESS FEAR by EMILY DICKINSON LOVE AND A QUESTION by ROBERT FROST LET THE LIGHT ENTER (THE DYING WORDS OF GOETHE) by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER THE MAHOGANY TREE by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY SONG TOURNAMENT: NEW STYLE by LOUIS UNTERMEYER |