Time is continually pressing upon us
Never letting us take breath
But always coming after us
Like a taskmaster with a whip
If at any moment time stays his hand
It is only when we are delivered over
To the misery of boredom
But if all wishes were fulfilled as soon as they arose
How would men occupy their lives?
Time is our master, we are its slave
We are impatient to finish, and glad to be done
