A wearied pilgrim I have wander'd here, <br />Twice five-and-twenty, bate me but one year; <br />Long I have lasted in this world; 'tis true <br />But yet those years that I have lived, but few. <br />Who by his gray hairs doth his lustres tell, <br />Lives not those years, but he that lives them well: <br />One man has reach'd his sixty years, but he <br />Of all those three-score has not lived half three: <br />He lives who lives to virtue; men who cast <br />Their ends for pleasure, do not live, but last.<br /><br />Robert Herrick<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-himself/
