"Long, as to him who works for debt, the Day; / Long as the Night to her whose love's away; / Long as the Year's dull circle seems to run, / When the brisk Minor pants for twenty-one; / So slow th' unprofitable Moments roll, / That lock up all the Functions of my soul; / That keep me from Myself; and still delay / Life's instant business to a future day."
The First Epistle of the First Book of Horace Imitated
See <u>The Poems of Alexander Pope</u>, ed. John Butt (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1963), 624-34.
