Madeline With other poems and parables: By Thomas Gordon Hake |
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ON TIME. |
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Madeline | ||
183
VIII. ON TIME.
Time immemorial, ever-thoughtless dream,
Failure of all alike from first to last,
That swamps with desolating stream
The long-enduring Past!
Who the lost tidings of thy day shall tell,
Whose only welcome was to say farewell?
Failure of all alike from first to last,
That swamps with desolating stream
The long-enduring Past!
Who the lost tidings of thy day shall tell,
Whose only welcome was to say farewell?
What of thy old endeavour yet survives,
Told but on stone, shall also drift away:
And so thy reliquary takes and gives
To lead the foremost minds of man astray!
Better had all that yet escapes from rust
Not ever been, or been restored to dust.
Told but on stone, shall also drift away:
And so thy reliquary takes and gives
To lead the foremost minds of man astray!
Better had all that yet escapes from rust
Not ever been, or been restored to dust.
Yet well perhaps thy deep devices fare,
Since all thy works co-partners with the dead,
May show the anxious mind how vain is care;
And disabuse the future of its dread;
May warn the hopeful of their scanty lot:
The last to yield, the first to be forgot.
Since all thy works co-partners with the dead,
May show the anxious mind how vain is care;
And disabuse the future of its dread;
May warn the hopeful of their scanty lot:
The last to yield, the first to be forgot.
Madeline | ||