Teresa and Other Poems By James Rhoades |
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TIME
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 | Teresa and Other Poems |  |
117
TIME
Time, the rich soil wherefrom we reap
In age the sowing of our prime;
Time, the sad grave wherein we weep
Our loves and laughters buried deep,
Our loftiest deed, our sweetest rime,
Why do we waste thee, hold thee cheap,
Why lose thee, waking or asleep—
In age the sowing of our prime;
Time, the sad grave wherein we weep
Our loves and laughters buried deep,
Our loftiest deed, our sweetest rime,
Why do we waste thee, hold thee cheap,
Why lose thee, waking or asleep—
Time?
Oh, swift to fly! Oh, slow to creep!—
Set to the measured march sublime
And music of the eternal chime,
What wonder if our souls o'erleap,
Or, lagging after, cannot keep
Oh, swift to fly! Oh, slow to creep!—
Set to the measured march sublime
And music of the eternal chime,
What wonder if our souls o'erleap,
Or, lagging after, cannot keep
Time?
| Teresa and Other Poems | |