I saw Time sitting on a stool, Winding-winding Steadily my life-threads from the spool, I not minding; Dull monotony to me, For the end I could not see. I saw Time sitting on a stool, My stern master; Never deviating from the given rule, Though urged faster. Heard a whisper then, "For you Time, the winder's nearly through." I saw Time raise a warning hand, Still not slowing, Pointing to the end so I'd understand Its swift going. Then my conscience pled, "Make haste, For your threads are going to waste." I saw Time hold the tangled mass, Once untreasured, Snarled and useless to me now—alas, Never measured; But its later strands I caught, And a thing of beauty wrought. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DREAMS (2) by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR OLD SAUGATUCK MILL by GRACE JEWETT AUSTIN A MOTHER'S HEART by CHRISTOPHER BANNISTER URANIA; THE WOMAN IN THE MOON: THE SECOND CANTO, OR FIRST QUARTER by WILLIAM BASSE CHINESE PICTURE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: THE PEDLER by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON MASKS by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON OLD AND NEW; THE CENTURY ASSOCIATION, 1847-1897 by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER |