Soliloquy on the Eve of New Year's Day

My days, my weeks, my months, my years,

Fly rapid as the whirling spheres

Around the steady pole:

Time, like the tide, its motion keeps,

Till I must launch through boundless deeps,

Where endless ages roll.

The grave is near the cradle seen:

The moments swiftly pass between,

And whisper as they fly:

Unthinking man, remember this,

Though fond of sublunary bliss,

Thou soon must gasp and die.

My soul, attend the solemn call:

Thine earthly tent must quickly fall,

And thou must take thy flight

Beyond the vast expansive blue,

To sing and love as angels do,

Or sink in endless night.