On Time

John Milton

Fly envious Time, till thou run out thy race,

Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours,

Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets pace;

And glut thy self with what thy womb devours,

Which is no more then what is false and vain,

And meerly mortal dross;

So little is our loss,

So little is thy gain.

For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd,

And last of all, thy greedy self consum'd,

Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss

With an individual kiss;

And Joy shall overtake us as a flood,

When every thing that is sincerely good

And perfectly divine,

With Truth, and Peace, and Love shall ever shine

About the supreme Throne

Of him, t'whose happy-making sight alone,

When once our heav'nly-guided soul shall clime,

Then all this Earthy grosnes quit,

Attir'd with Stars, we shall for ever sit,

Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee O Time.

Paradise Lost, Book I, Lines 221-270 by John Milton
Is this the Region, this the Soil, the Clime

Paradise Lost, Book IV, Lines 639–652 by John Milton
With thee conversing I forget all time

Paradise Lost, Book IV, [The Argument] by John Milton
O for that warning voice, which he who saw

Paradise Lost, Book VI, Lines 801-866 by John Milton
Stand still in bright array, ye Saints; here stand

Lycidas by John Milton
Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more

On His Deceased Wife by John Milton
Me thought I saw my late espousèd Saint

On Shakespeare by John Milton
What needs my Shakespeare for his honour'd Bones

On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity by John Milton
This is the month, and this the happy morn

Song On May Morning by John Milton
Now the bright morning Star, Dayes harbinger

To the Same by John Milton
Cyriack, this three years’ day these eyes, though clear

When I Consider How My Light Is Spent by John Milton
When I consider how my light is spent,