We are but minutes

We are but minutes - little things
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.



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