TIME is the root of all this earth; These creatures, who from Time had birth, Within his bosom at the end Shall sleep; Time hath nor enemy nor friend. All we in one long caravan Are journeying since the world began; We know not whither, but we know Time guideth at the front, and all must go. Like as the wind upon the field Bows every herb, and all must yield, So we beneath Time's passing breath Bow each in turn,—why tears for birth or death? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TAPS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LA CONDUCTORA DEL DESEO/CONDUIT by VIRGIL SUAREZ MADEIRA FROM THE SEA by SARA TEASDALE EPITAPH: FOR A VIRGIN LADY by COUNTEE CULLEN EPIGRAM: 45. ON MY FIRST SON by BEN JONSON ODE TO MASTER ANTHONY STAFFORD [TO HASTEN HIM INTO COUNTRY] by THOMAS RANDOLPH |