X Mon. December [1744] hath xxxi days.

By Benjamin Franklin Benjamin Franklin
This World’s an Inn, all Travellers are we;
And this World’s Goods th’Accommodations be.
Our Life is nothing but a Winter’s Day;
Some only break their Fast, and so away.
Others stay Dinner, and depart full fed.
The deepest Age but sups and goes to bed.
He’s most in Debt that lingers out the Day;
Who dies betimes has less and less to pay.

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Poet Benjamin Franklin

Subjects Growing Old, Living

Poetic Terms Metaphor, Couplet

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Originally appeared in Poetry magazine.

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