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This intellect that haunts the path of happiness
Keeps saying to thee an hundred times a day
“Reflect in this single moment of thine existence that thou are not
(Like) those herbs which, when they gather them, spring up again.

 

Bodl 49

This intellect that haunts the path of happiness
keeps saying to thee a hundred times a day: —
"Understand in this single moment of thine existence, that thou art not
like those herbs which when they gather them spring up again."

Chr 10

This reason that walks the path of happiness, a
hundred times a day it says to thee:
"Find out this one moment of thy lifetime, for thou art
not like those pot-herbs which are picked and grow again."

P 268

Good sense, which felicity's pathway doth trace,
Still bids thee all day with the tongue of the case
Make the most of this moment, for thou art no plant
That they mow and that presently springs up apace.

Th 265

The sense which bids you Pleasure's path pursue,
Whispers a hundred times a day to you,
“This moment have in mind, for you 're no plant
Which when they mow it down, springs up anew!"

Wh 217

Sense, seeking happiness, bids us pursue
All present joys, and present griefs eschew;
She says, we are not as the meadow grass,
Which, when they mow it down, springs up anew.

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