Time was upon The wing, to flie away; And I cal'd on Him but a while to stay; But he'd be gone, For ought that I could say. He held out then, A Writing, as he went; And askt me, when False man would be content To pay agen, What God and Nature lent. An houre-glasse, In which were sands but few, As he did passe, He shew'd, and told me too, Mine end near was, And so away he flew. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. MERRITT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS PALABRAS CARINOSAS (SPANISH AIR) by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE WASHERS OF THE SHROUD; OCTOBER, 1861 by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL ASSAULT by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THOSE EVENING BELLS by THOMAS MOORE MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 10 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |