Measureless

To measure up the moments How measureless they be ‘Til toil consumes and life concludes We notice – suddenly That ‘twas not so immeasurable Nor not so ponderous But with a token patience We could have counted all And whether life had beckoned And sped a firmer hand Or whether it ease gradually A snail upon the sand So much had thus been granted And yet so little still That had we truly tallied We'd perish – unfulfilled