So Much One Man Can Do That

And Yonder All Before Us Lie Deserts Of Vast Eternity.

But At My Back I Always Hear Time's Winged Chariot Hurrying Near; And Yonder All Before Us Lie Deserts Of Vast Eternity. Thy Beauty Shall No More Be Found, Nor, In Thy Marble Vault, Shall Sound My Echoing Song; Then Worms Shall Try That Long Preserv'd Virginity, And Your Quaint Honour Turn To Dust, And Into Ashes All My Lust. The Grave's A Fine And Private Place, But None I Think Do There Embrace.

How Fit He Is To Sway That Can So Well Obey.

Had It Lived Long, Is Would Have Been Lilies Without, Roses Within.

Thus, Though We Cannot Make Our Sun Stand Still, Yet We Will Make Him Run