TIME hobbles, but Love flies; One moment, say the wise, They pass together: Not Cupid's curls of gold But Time's grey forelock hold, A trusty tether. For Time, once safely caught, Is servant to your thought For ever after; But wanton Love will snip The curl you hold, and trip Away with laughter. Yet if my hint you heed, With all his craft and speed, He ne'er shall flout you; Catch Cupid by the wing, For then he cannot spring To Heaven without you. |