Wild honey from various thyme :: :: University of Virginia Library

“There is a change in love that is not ebb,
For love, as life, must Time's behest obey;
There is the wonder of the growing web,
And lilies spin their blooms beneath the clay.”
—This from my head to my sad breast I speed:
But Reason there a world of angry sighs
Encountereth—“The antique spell is dead,
And, if love's favour altereth, love dies.”
The god to my extremity—“Dear Heart,
Mourn not defect and lovely hours undone,
For every mother from her child must part,
Yea, every mother that doth rear a son!”
And blushing at the keen rebuke I pass,
Smile at the scythe and smile at Time's hour-glass.