Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife, Throughout the sensual world proclaim,
One crouded hour of glorious life Is worth an age without a name.

To all the sensual world proclaim, One crowded hour of glorious life, Is worth an age without a name.

One crowded hour of glorious life is worth an age without a name

One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum

Each moment of the happy lover's hour is worth an age of dull and common life.

One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters through a marsh, without either honour or observation.

One hour of right-down love is worth an age of dully living on.