Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO MY DEAR SISTER, MRS. S.: THURSDAY, by WILLIAM HAMMOND


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO MY DEAR SISTER, MRS. S.: THURSDAY, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Now I'm resolv'd the crazy universe
Last Line: And all, as you, become untimely grey.
Subject(s): Mourning; Bereavement


Now I'm resolv'd the crazy Universe
Grows old, the Sun himself is nigh his hearse;
Seven daughters in one week his youthful rays
Were wont to get; but since his strength decays,
Six are the most: Thursday is lost; for we
Who boast ourselves skill'd in th' astronomy
Of your day-shedding eyes, by that light swear,
That day is lost in which you not appear;
That thy dark fancy might a giant-woe
Beget, thou mak'st a night Herculean too:
The late astronomers have found it true,
We have lost many days; but 'tis by you
Our calculation errs; and we shall rage,
If you go on to cheat us of our age;
One day in seven is lost; and in threescore,
We are bereaved of nine years, and more:
So will your grief dilate itself like day,
And all, as you, become untimely grey.





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