 | Sonnets of the Wingless Hours |  |
25
THE SUN-DIAL.
II.
No, there is no tall prophet at my call
Flame-eyed, imperious, doomed to wooden saws,
To stretch his rod athwart eternal laws
And juggle with the shadow on the wall.
Flame-eyed, imperious, doomed to wooden saws,
To stretch his rod athwart eternal laws
And juggle with the shadow on the wall.
No Ahaz' sun-dial this. The earth's dumb ball,
Through the blind Heaven of effect and cause,
Rolls on and on;—and on, without a pause
The shadow creeps, to merge in Night's great pall.
Through the blind Heaven of effect and cause,
Rolls on and on;—and on, without a pause
The shadow creeps, to merge in Night's great pall.
Then list, ye Hours.—Since it is writ on high
That none shall help me in my silent fight,
Creep but for me, and fast for others fly:
That none shall help me in my silent fight,
Creep but for me, and fast for others fly:
So shall I lie content, and deem things right,
And heave at most a wistful waiting sigh,
For death's unstarr'd, but hospitable night.
And heave at most a wistful waiting sigh,
For death's unstarr'd, but hospitable night.
| Sonnets of the Wingless Hours | |