My Days, My Weeks, My Months, My Years KINGWOOD—Charles William Humphreys My Days, My Weeks, My Months, My Years 1 My days, my weeks, my months, my years, Fly rapid as the whirling spheres, Around the steady pole. Time, like the tide, its motion keeps, And I must launch through endless deeps, Where endless ages roll. 2 The grave is near the cradle seen, How swift the moments pass between, And whisper as they fly. Unthinking man, remember this, Though fond of sublunary bliss, That you must