So, Time, Royal, sublime; Heretofore held to be Master and enemy, Thief of my Love's adornings, Despoiling her to scornings: -- The sound philosopher Now sets him to aver You are nought But a thought Without reality. Young, old Passioned, cold, All the loved-lost thus Are beings continuous, In dateless dure abiding, Over the present striding With placid permanence That knows not transience: Firm in the Vast, First, last; Afar, yet close to us. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOUNTAINEER AND POET by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING LAST WORDS TO A DUMB FRIEND by THOMAS HARDY AT MIDSUMMER by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON ANNIVERSARIUM BAPTISMI (1) by JOSEPH BEAUMONT TO IRON-FOUNDERS AND OTHERS by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |