 | Sonnets of the Wingless Hours |  |
36
THE WAIFS OF TIME.
When some great ship has long ago been wreck'd,
And the repentant waves have long since laid
Upon the beach the booty that they made,
And few remember still, and none expect,
And the repentant waves have long since laid
Upon the beach the booty that they made,
And few remember still, and none expect,
The Sea will sometimes suddenly eject
A louely shattered waif, still undecayed,
That tells of lives with which an old storm played,
In a carved name that graybeards recollect.
A louely shattered waif, still undecayed,
That tells of lives with which an old storm played,
In a carved name that graybeards recollect.
So ever and anon the soundless sea
Which we call Time, casts up upon the strand
Some tardy waif from lost antiquity:
Which we call Time, casts up upon the strand
Some tardy waif from lost antiquity:
A stained maimed god, a faun with shattered hand,
From Art's great wreck is suddenly set free,
And stands before us as immortals stand.
From Art's great wreck is suddenly set free,
And stands before us as immortals stand.
| Sonnets of the Wingless Hours | |