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Tempus Fugit.
How fast the flow
this river's run.
Too close the eve
so low the sun.
Finger's reach to grasp
and hold.
Stem the river
rushing bold.
Eyes that love
see time fall cold.
Each beat of heart
a moment sold.
Bitter winds the time
forerun
my love to lose, yet
still undone.
Though dark the evening
drawing near,
the cup of life
does yet run clear.
