One We Love

 

Thou miser, Time, who gave to me

Some vigour, grace, and youth more dear-

They were not gifts, but debts and loans,

Which I repay thee year by year;

E'en thou, false Time, were not reproved,

Did I grow old with one I loved.

Go, Fame, whose voice is from high hills

'Tis death to climb and much heartburn;

Not worldly wealth, nor temporal power,

Nor future hopes shall serve my turn-

Not me again shall either move,

So I grow old with the one I love.

In ocean's depths, how rude is life,

They murder there and make no sound!

Wild beasts are dying off the land,

And now'tis man gives man his wound:

But there's one joy none can disprove-

'Tis to grow old with one we love.