Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TIME, by ANNA CORA OGDEN MOWATT RITCHIE Poet's Biography
First Line: Nay rail not at time, though a tyrant he be
Last Line: For he'll rob me in vain, if he leave me but you!
NAY rail not at Time, though a tyrant he be,
And say not he cometh, colossal in might,
Our Beauty to ravish, put pleasure to flight,
And pluck away friends, e'en as leaves from the tree;
And say not Love's torch, which like Vesta's should burn
The cold breath of Time soon to ashes will turn.
You call Time a robber? Nay, he is not so, --
While Beauty's fair temple he rudely despoils,
The mind to enrich with its plunder he toils;
And, sow'd in his furrows, doth wisdom not grow?
The magnet 'mid stars points the north still to view;
So Time 'mong our friends e'er discloses the true.
Tho' cares then should gather, as pleasures flee by,
Tho' Time, from thy features, the charms steal away,
He'll dim too mine eye, lest it see them decay;
And sorrows we've shared, will knit closer love's tie:
Then I'll laugh at old Time, and at all he can do,
For he'll rob me in vain, if he leave me but you!
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