The flying hours are gone;
Like transitory dreams given o’er,
Whose images are kept in store
By memory alone.
The time that is to come is not;
How can it then be mine?
The present moment’s all my lot,
And that as fast as it is got,
Phyllis, is only thine.
Then talk not of inconstancy,
False hearts and broken vows;
If I by miracle can be
This live-long minute true to thee,
‘Tis all that Heaven allows"
| — | John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester |
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