Gray hairs, unwelcome monitors, begin To mingle with the locks that shade my brow And sadly warn me that I stand within That pale uncertain called the middle age. Upon the billows head which soon must bow I reel; and gaze into the depths where rage No more the wars 'twixt Time & Life as now, And gazing swift, descend towards that great Deep Whose secrets the Almighty One doth keep. I am as one on mighty errand bound Uncertain is the distance -- fixed the hour; He stops to gaze upon the Dial's round Trembling & earnest; when a rising cloud Casts its oblivious shadow & no more The gnomon tells what he would know and loud Thunders are heard & gathering tempests lower. Lamenting mispent time he hastes away And treads again the dim & dubious way. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: HENRY BAKER, AT NEW YORK by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DIRGE OF RORY O'MORE; 1642 by AUBREY THOMAS DE VERE OVERHEARD ON A SALTMARSH by HAROLD MONRO MY LITTLE GIRL by SAMUEL MINTURN PECK MNEMOSYNE by TRUMBULL STICKNEY NEGRO GIRL by IRENE COOPER ALLEN THE MASTER BLACKSMITH by ARNOLD ANDREWS |