 | A Selection from Unpublished Poems |  |
12
TIME STEALS AWAY.
Ay! if you mark the sunny ground,
Where now the maypole shade may fall,
It soon will wheel a span around,
While seeming not to go at all.
I know not how the time is flown
Since you and I met here one May;
A day of rest, a season blest,
For oh! how time will steal away.
Where now the maypole shade may fall,
It soon will wheel a span around,
While seeming not to go at all.
I know not how the time is flown
Since you and I met here one May;
A day of rest, a season blest,
For oh! how time will steal away.
While once our evening mirth began,
The candle's glossy stem was tall,
But soon burnt down, a long half-span,
Though seeming not to sink at all.
The time is gone, I know not how,
Since there we gather'd, young and gay,
In nights of joys, with merry noise,
For oh! how lifetime steals away.
The candle's glossy stem was tall,
But soon burnt down, a long half-span,
Though seeming not to sink at all.
The time is gone, I know not how,
Since there we gather'd, young and gay,
In nights of joys, with merry noise,
For oh! how lifetime steals away.
The winterbourne, when o'er the dell
The spring was green, was flowing fast,
And then fell dry, but who can tell
What day and hour it ran its last.
I know not how the time has fled
Since there, with you, I flung the hay,
In youth's gay pride, in hope's fair tide,
For oh! how lifetime steals away.
The spring was green, was flowing fast,
And then fell dry, but who can tell
What day and hour it ran its last.
I know not how the time has fled
Since there, with you, I flung the hay,
In youth's gay pride, in hope's fair tide,
For oh! how lifetime steals away.
As when the ship goes under sail
Far out before the sounding beach,
And, while we hear some friend's new tale,
She sinks beyond our eyesight's reach.
So time has gone, I know not how,
Since we had picnics on the bay.
The happy year, the summer dear,
Of time that softly steals away.
Far out before the sounding beach,
And, while we hear some friend's new tale,
She sinks beyond our eyesight's reach.
13
Since we had picnics on the bay.
The happy year, the summer dear,
Of time that softly steals away.
| A Selection from Unpublished Poems | |