A LAS ! how neglectful,
Unfeeling we tread!
How careless, forgetful,
Of benefits fled!
When the hopes we have tasted
Are lost, we deplore,
And sigh for time wasted
We ne'er may see more!
Resolving—repenting—
Still day after day,
Whilst angels lamenting,
Drop tears on our way.
Could man read Time's pages,
Record every scene!
He'd find, through Life's stages,
How oft he had been
Too full of inventions
To satisfy thought—
Too rife with intentions
That dwindled to nought!
Still taxing to-morrow,
Still wasting to day—
Whilst angels in sorrow
Dropped tears on his way.