John Taylor "The Water Poet"

Fill the cup and fill the can,
Have a rouse before the morn;
Every minute dies a read more

Fill the cup and fill the can,
Have a rouse before the morn;
Every minute dies a man,
Every minute one is born.

As the sweet voice of a bird,
Heard by the lander in a lonely isle,
Moves him read more

As the sweet voice of a bird,
Heard by the lander in a lonely isle,
Moves him to think what kind of bird it is,
That sings so delicately clear, and make
Conjecture of the plumage and the form.

For man is man, and master of his fate.

For man is man, and master of his fate.

For men, at most, differ as heaven and earth;
But women, worst and best, as heaven and hell.

For men, at most, differ as heaven and earth;
But women, worst and best, as heaven and hell.

Like summer tempest came her tears:
Sweet my child, I live for thee.

Like summer tempest came her tears:
Sweet my child, I live for thee.