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Edward Young
Quote #23
Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!
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One to destroy, is murder by the law; And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe; To murder thousands takes a specious name, War's glorious ar…
Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne, In rayless majesty, now stretches forth Her leaden scepter o'er a slumbering world.
Think naught a trifle, though it small appear; Small sands the mountain, moments make the year, And trifles life.
Creation sleeps! 'Tis as the general pulse Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause; An awful pause! prophetic of her end.
For her own breakfast she'll project a scheme, Nor take her tea without a strategem.
The bell strikes one. We take no note of time But from its loss.
With skill she vibrates her eternal tongue, Forever most divinely in the wrong.
Be wise today; 'tis madness to defer.
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