Stones from The Quarry | ||
ON SHAKSPEAR'S PROFOUND SONNET (CXXIII), “NO! TIME, THOU SHALT NOT BOAST.”
Great Soul! with what an unregarding handThou holdest up old Egypt's wonderments!
And measuring not by inches, but intents
And inwards, with a most assurèd stand
And self-stayed equipoise, like grains of sand,
Or children's playthings, these chief arguments
Of that weak wonder which the eye contents,
Dost weigh, and of Time's juggleries demand
A shrewd account! He is a conjuror,
And with his glamour all things double grow;
What thus is now is not so in an hour!
Mere appertainings make things such and so
To light esteem; but thou, wise Monitor,
The “More” in “Less,” and “Less” in “More” dost show!
Stones from The Quarry | ||