 | Words by the Wayside |  |
112
To Ellen Terry
(April, 1906).
Time, that writes ruin on each mortal brow,
The soul's creations hath no power to harm:
Their youth is stamped with an eternal Now,
And lapse of days but consecrates their charm.
The soul's creations hath no power to harm:
Their youth is stamped with an eternal Now,
And lapse of days but consecrates their charm.
So to our inward sense thou grow'st not old,
O gracious Vision! so this fiftieth year
But renders thee the fairer fifty-fold,
And fifty-fold more dear.
O gracious Vision! so this fiftieth year
But renders thee the fairer fifty-fold,
And fifty-fold more dear.
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