WHEN Death from some fair face Is stealing life away, All weep, save she, the grace That earth shall lose to-day. When Time from some fair face Steals beauty year by year, For her slow-fading grace Who sheds, save she, a tear? And death not often dares To wake the world's distress; While Time, the cunning, mars Surely all loveliness. Yet though by breath and breath Fades all thy fairest prime, Men shrink from cruel Death, But honor crafty Time. |