HOW heavy falls the foot of time!
How slow the ling'ring quarters chime,
Thro' anxious hours of long delay!
In vain we watch the silent glass,
More slow the sands appear to pass,
While disappointment marks their way.
Tomorrow --still the phantom flies,
Flitting away before our eyes,
Eludes our grasp, is pass'd and gone;
Daughter of hope, night o'er thee flings
The shadow of her raven wings,
And in the morning thou art flown.
Delusive sprite! from day to day,
We still pursue thy pathless way;
Thy promise broken o'er and o'er,
Man still believes, and is thy slave;
Nor ends the chase but in the grave,
For there, tomorrow is no more!