 | Areytos or songs and ballads of the South |  |
289
SONNET.—DAYS VANISH.
Days vanish, and still other days arise,Like these to disappear: and still we crave
From Time, indulgence—with a yawning Grave
Beneath us, that, with ceaseless utterance, cries:
“Ye ripen fast for me—the moment flies
When ye should ripen for eternity;
Be diligent, if ye would take the prize
Wrought for performance in humility;
In exercise of goodness, make ye wise;
Each toiling in his station, as is meet:
For still, however slow, the hours will fleet
Too fast for the most diligent! Your eyes
Will close on mightiest projects, still unwrought,
That were the favorite creatures of your thought.”
| Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | |