Sit down, sad soul, and count
The moments flying;
Come, tell the sweet amount
That’s lost by sighing!
How many smiles?—a score?
Then laugh, and count no more;
For day is dying.
Lie down sad soul, and sleep,
And no more measure
The flight of time, nor weep
The loss of leisure;
But here by this lone stream,
Lie down with us, and dream
Of starry treasure.
—Bryan Waller Procter.
This image does not belong to Belijose’s Fashion Hauz.
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