Sir Aubrey de Vere (1788–1846)

THERE is no remedy for time misspent;

No healing for the waste of idleness,

Whose very languor is a punishment

Heavier than active souls can feel or guess.

O hours of indolence and discontent,

Not now to be redeemed! ye sting not less,

Because I know this span of life was lent

For lofty duties, not for selfishness.

Not to be whiled away in aimless dreams,

But to improve ourselves, and serve mankind,

Life and its choicest faculties were given.

Man should be ever better than he seems;

And shape his acts, and discipline his mind,

To walk, adorning earth, with hope of heaven.