Now is the time foretold us And the hour is late, Outside the clouds are flying At the gate. This is the measure given Which we will not take, The winds will die at morning, The gate break And we shall waken driven And we too shall drive, Impelling hate and malice While alive. But if we were to open, Ease the heart a space, These strictures would soon vanish From the face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT THE BRITISH MUSEUM by RICHARD ALDINGTON MATE (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SHE WEEPS OVER RAHOON by JAMES JOYCE SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: HENRY PHIPPS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS WAR VERSE (1914) by EZRA POUND |