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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508400" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>It Is Later Than You Think</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lone amid the cafe's cheer,<br>Sad of heart am I to-night;<br>Dolefully I drink my beer,<br>But no single line I write.<br>There's the wretched rent to pay,<br>Yet I glower at pen and ink:<br>Oh, inspire me, Muse, I pray,<br>It is later than you think!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hello! there's a pregnant phrase.<br>Bravo! let me write it down;<br>Hold it with a hopeful gaze,<br>Gauge it with a fretful frown;<br>Tune it to my lyric lyre . . .<br>Ah! upon starvation's brink,<br>How the words are dark and dire:<br>It is later than you think.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Weigh them well. . . . Behold yon band,<br>Students drinking by the door,<br>Madly merry, bock in hand,<br>Saucers stacked to mark their score.<br>Get you gone, you jolly scamps;<br>Let your parting glasses clink;<br>Seek your long neglected lamps:<br>It is later than you think.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Look again: yon dainty blonde,<br>All allure and golden grace,<br>Oh so willing to respond<br>Should you turn a smiling face.<br>Play your part, poor pretty doll;<br>Feast and frolic, pose and prink;<br>There's the Morgue to end it all,<br>And it's later than you think.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yon's a playwright -- mark his face,<br>Puffed and purple, tense and tired;<br>Pasha-like he holds his place,<br>Hated, envied and admired.<br>How you gobble life, my friend;<br>Wine, and woman soft and pink!<br>Well, each tether has its end:<br>Sir, it's later than you think.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">See yon living scarecrow pass<br>With a wild and wolfish stare<br>At each empty absinthe glass,<br>As if he saw Heaven there.<br>Poor damned wretch, to end your pain<br>There is still the Greater Drink.<br>Yonder waits the sanguine Seine . . .<br>It is later than you think.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lastly, you who read; aye, you<br>Who this very line may scan:<br>Think of all you planned to do . . .<br>Have you done the best you can?<br>See! the tavern lights are low;<br>Black's the night, and how you shrink!<br>God! and is it time to go?<br>Ah! the clock is always slow;<br>It is later than you think;<br>Sadly later than you think;<br>Far, far later than you think.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508400" data-title="It Is Later Than You Think de Robert William Service" data-description="Lone amid the cafe's cheer,
Sad of heart am I to-night;
Dolefully I drink my beer,
But no single line I write.
There's the wretched rent to pay,
Yet I glower at pen and ink:
Oh, inspire me, Muse, I pray,
It is later than you think!

Hello! there's..."></div>
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