O SINCE 't is decreed by the envious Fates, All deaf to the clamoring heart, That the truest and fondest of conjugal mates Shall often be sighing apart; Since the Days of our absence are many and sad, And the Hours of our meeting are few, Ah! what in a case so exceedingly bad, Can the deepest philosophy do? Pray what can we do, -- unfortunate elves, Unconscious of folly or crime, -- But make a new Calendar up for ourselves, For the better appraisal of time? And the Hours alone shall the Calendar fill (While Blanks show their distance apart), Just sufficiently near to keep off the chill That else might be freezing the heart; And each Hour shall be such a glorious hour, Its moments so precious and dear, That in breadth, and in depth, and in bliss-giving power, It may fairly be reckoned a year! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MOTHER TO HER SICK CHILD by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE SOLITARY REAPER by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH VERSES TO THE MEMORY OF SARAH CANDLER by BERNARD BARTON THE ROUNDHOUSE by WILLIAM ROSE BENET TO PERCY BUCK by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES THE COMING OF THE WORDS by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON FRAGMENT WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT by GEORGE CRABBE EASTER by WILLIAM ARTHUR DUNKERLEY LAMENT (OF ONE OF THE OLD REGIME) by EMMA CATHERINE (MANLY) EMBURY |