Amenophis and Other Poems Sacred and Secular by Francis T. Palgrave |
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XIVTHE SUN-DIAL
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 | Amenophis and Other Poems Sacred and Secular |  |
170
XIV
THE SUN-DIAL
I look on the happy children,
And they bid me join their play
By the sun-dial in the garden,
The sun-dial old and gray.
And they bid me join their play
By the sun-dial in the garden,
The sun-dial old and gray.
They smile as they watch the shadow
With stealthy resistless pace;
But they read not the lesson, the dear ones,
Writ on the dial's face.
With stealthy resistless pace;
But they read not the lesson, the dear ones,
Writ on the dial's face.
For you, my children, it numbers
No hours save hours serene;
No fears for a hidden future,
No pang for the dread ‘has been.’
No hours save hours serene;
No fears for a hidden future,
No pang for the dread ‘has been.’
The vision of wasted chances,
Of faces we would not forget
Yet prized not enough when with us,
The deep, unavailing regret:
Of faces we would not forget
Yet prized not enough when with us,
The deep, unavailing regret:
The years in their torrent swiftness
That shriek as seaward they go...
—What know they of this, the children?
Ah, better they should not know!
That shriek as seaward they go...
—What know they of this, the children?
Ah, better they should not know!
171
They smile and watch by the dial,
Till darkness hurries them hence:—
And their souls are bathed in slumber
With the sunshine of innocence.
Till darkness hurries them hence:—
And their souls are bathed in slumber
With the sunshine of innocence.
But I stand and watch them sleeping,
And over their faces go
Flushes and smiles and sweetness,
And breathing even and low.
And over their faces go
Flushes and smiles and sweetness,
And breathing even and low.
I muse on the thousand perils
That hang o'er each golden head;
And I know that my treasures tremble
Like dew on the gossamer-thread.
That hang o'er each golden head;
And I know that my treasures tremble
Like dew on the gossamer-thread.
O Life, what art thou that holdest
What is more than life to thee
By the tenure of thine own hours,
Thine own fragility?
What is more than life to thee
By the tenure of thine own hours,
Thine own fragility?
And each breath is a sigh, that nearer
Brings the long farewell to me:—
O were Life not life for ever,
Better life should not be!
Brings the long farewell to me:—
O were Life not life for ever,
Better life should not be!
| Amenophis and Other Poems Sacred and Secular | |