Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend. Nativity, once in the main of light, Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, Crooked elipses 'gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow: And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COLLOQUE SENTIMENTAL by PAUL VERLAINE CURIOSITY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ALMS by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY IMAGINATION, FR. A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE RUNNING TO PARADISE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS MARGARET FULLER by AMOS BRONSON ALCOTT URANIA; THE WOMAN IN THE MOON: THIS STORY MORALIZED by WILLIAM BASSE |