Not a Day

There is not a day,
There is not an hour,
But carries away
Or offers us power.
Which is the better
The winner or loser?
To fortune a debtor,
Or fortune’s wise user?

To other men’s view,
Though steadily striving,
How little we do
Unless we are thriving.
The quaint artist Time
Close student of Duty,
Is a master sublime
In painting soul beauty.

We may not improve
On what he has shown us,
But forward must move
Or he will disown us.
The higher we stand
For prizes contending,
The more rigid demand
For delicate blending.