Say, where are the days that are gone, and where are the joys I have known; they have sunk in the ocean of time, they are gone with the days that are flown. The hours that once I have pass'd, in the pleasure that friendship bestows; are attach'd to the swift wing of time, and have stolen the balm of repose. Keen memory wakens my pain, in describing the pleasures gone by; those joys to remembrance so dear, which friendship's rich stream could supply. The meteor that rapidly flies, that darts through the regions of night, is an emblem of life's transient joys, which equal the speed of its flight.
Elizabeth Bath (1776-1844)