We are but minutes
Each one furnished with sixty wings,
With each we fly on our unseen track,
And not a minute ever comes back.
We are but minutes - yet each one bears
A little burden of joys and cares,
Patiently take the minutes of pain,
The worst of minutes cannot remain.
We are but minutes - when we bring
A few of the drops from pleasure's spring,
Taste their sweetness while we stay,
It takes but a minute to fly away.
We are but minutes - use us well,
For how we are used we must one day tell;
Who uses us has hours to use,
Who loses minutes, whole years must lose.