 | Brackenham Church |  |
25
TIME IN LOVE
Clearly he wants her. Could he speak,
How fast his words would run in claiming
Her many joys! But Father Time
Has not a single word for naming.
Though sworn of old to wither life,
He falters, falters, in the duty
Of shaking petals from a flower
Almost beyond—
Almost beyond the hope of Beauty.
How fast his words would run in claiming
Her many joys! But Father Time
Has not a single word for naming.
Though sworn of old to wither life,
He falters, falters, in the duty
Of shaking petals from a flower
Almost beyond—
Almost beyond the hope of Beauty.
She is not young, except in heart,
With two score years and five to carry,
So Time's rebellious want is how
To coax her loveliness to tarry.
His touches on her forehead show
But dimly, and all other lining
Is tender in a way to seem
As youth not gone—
As youth not gone, but youth refining.
With two score years and five to carry,
So Time's rebellious want is how
To coax her loveliness to tarry.
His touches on her forehead show
But dimly, and all other lining
Is tender in a way to seem
As youth not gone—
As youth not gone, but youth refining.
26
His labour is to keep the vow
And yet to welcome Beauty pressing
The hurt that pierced him when she drove
His mood from withering to caressing.
Those deep-set lakes of blue, those lips,
That throat a little browned by heaven,
Shall suffer changes trebly slow,
And Time's deceit—
And Time's deceit shall be forgiven.
And yet to welcome Beauty pressing
The hurt that pierced him when she drove
His mood from withering to caressing.
Those deep-set lakes of blue, those lips,
That throat a little browned by heaven,
Shall suffer changes trebly slow,
And Time's deceit—
And Time's deceit shall be forgiven.
| Brackenham Church | |