 | Plays and poems |  |
402
[Fear not, dear maid, the love I give to thee]
Fear not, dear maid, the love I give to theeShall feel the palsied touch of Time's decay.
Thou dost confess my love will ever be,
And only fear its strength may waste away,
Dropping its blossoms as the seasons flee;
Or like the evening of a boreal day,
In lingering twilight stretch its sullen ray,
And on the edge of night hang doubtfully.
Grant love eternal, and thou grantest all;
Eternity counts not the passing hour,
Eternity knows naught of wane or fall,
Nor measures days by bloom or fade of flower,
Nor o'er its splendor casts sad evening's pall;
To Time belongs this ever-changing power.
| Plays and poems | |