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| Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear, | 1 |
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| Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste; |
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| These vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear, |
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| And of this book, this learning mayst thou taste. |
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| The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show | 5 |
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| Of mouthed graves will give thee memory; |
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| Thou by thy dial's shady stealth mayst know |
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| Time's thievish progress to eternity. |
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| Look! what thy memory cannot contain, |
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| Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt find | 10 |
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| Those children nursed, deliver'd from thy brain, |
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| To take a new acquaintance of thy mind. |
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 These offices, so oft as thou wilt look, |
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| Shall profit thee and much enrich thy book. |
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