O That A Week Could Be An Age, And We Felt Parting And Warm Meeting Every Week, Then One Poor Year A Thousand Years Would Be, The Flush Of Welcome Ever On The Cheek: So Could We Live Long Life In Little Space, So Time Itself Would Be Annihilate, So A Day'S Journey In Oblivious Haze To Serve Ourjoys Would Lengthen And Dilate. O To Arrive Each Monday Morn From Ind! To Land Each Tuesday From The Rich Levant! In Little Time A Host Of Joys To Bind, And Keep Our Souls In One Eternal Pant! This Morn, My Friend, And Yester-Evening Taught Me How To Harbour Such A Happy Thought.