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 Tis but a flying minute That I must stay, Or linger in it; And then I must away.

O time that cut'st down all And scarce leav'st here Memorial Of any men that were.

How many lie forgot In vaults beneath? And piecemeal rot Without a fame in death?

Behold this living stone I rear for me, Ne'er to be thrown Down, envious Time, by thee.

Pillars let some set up If so they please: Here is my hope And my Pyramides.

What though the sea be calm? Trust to the shore, Ships have been drown'd where late they danc'd before.