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“And sure we may The same too of the Present say, If Past, and Future Times do thee obey. Thou stopst this Current, and dost make This running River settle like a Lake, Thy certain hand holds fast this slippery Snake. The Fruit which does so quickly wast, Men scarce can see it, much less tast, Thou Comfitest in Sweets to make it last. This shining piece of Ice Which melts so soon away With the Suns ray, Thy Verse does solidate and Chrystallize. Till it a lasting Mirror be; Nay thy Immortal Rhyme Makes this one short Point of Time, To fill up half the Orb of Round Eternity.” — Abraham Cowley
And sure we may
The same too of the Present say,
If Past, and Future Times do thee obey.
Thou stopst this Current, and dost make
This running River settle like a Lake,
Thy certain hand holds fast this slippery Snake.
The Fruit which does so quickly wast,
Men scarce can see it, much less tast,
Thou Comfitest in Sweets to make it last.
This shining piece of Ice
Which melts so soon away
With the Suns ray,
Thy Verse does solidate and Chrystallize.
Till it a lasting Mirror be;
Nay thy Immortal Rhyme
Makes this one short Point of Time,
To fill up half the Orb of Round Eternity.