To Time it never seems that he is brave To set himself against the peaks of snow To lay them level with the running wave, Nor is he overjoyed when they lie low, But only grave, contemplative and grave. What now is inland shall be ocean isle, Then eddies playing round a sunken reef Like the curl at the corner of a smile; And I could share Time's lack of joy or grief At such a planetary change of style. I could give all to Time except - except What I myself have held. But why declare The things forbidden that while the Customs slept I have crossed to Safety with? For I am There, And what I would not part with I have kept. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FRAGMENTARY BLUE by ROBERT FROST DEAD LEAVES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IN THE JEWISH SYNAGOGUE AT NEWPORT by EMMA LAZARUS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: EUGENE CARMAN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SWEET CLOVER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A BALLAD OF WHITECHAPEL by ISAAC ROSENBERG |