All my past Life is mine no more,
The flying Hours are gone:
Like transitory Dreams giv'n o'er,
Whose Images are kept in store,
By Memory alone.
II.
The Time that is to come is not;
How can it then be mine?
The present Moment's all my Lot;
And that, as fast as it is got,
Phillis, is only thine.
III.
Then talk not of Inconstancy,
False Hearts, and broken Vows;
If I, by Miracle, can be
This live long Minute true to thee,
'Tis all that Heav'n allows.
*Carpe diem: el pasado es sueño, el futuro inexistente; sólo este minuto es tuyo, Filis.*