O TIME ! ’tis thou whom we despoiler call,
And only thou whom man could ne’er enthral;
Whose flight we trace not, and who waits for none,
Yet with the happy speed’st thy way alone;
Who deck’st thy wings with Beauty’s softest bloom,
Then sayst to Vanity, “Behold thy doom!”,
Who see’st proud cities form a mouldering heap,
And prouder princes in their ruin sweep:
While some lone watch-tower oft is pitying found,
As its bleak head thine ivy mantles round.
If then some pity dwell within thy heart,
Haply from Care, it makes thee loth to part;
And, as her sighs are borne upon the gale,
Stoop on thy wing to listen to her tale.
Yet lingering long, the mourner bids thee ‘go,’
As if thy presence but increased her woe.
Nor knows the ingrate thou dost still delay,
Unseen to fly, and STEAL her TEARS AWAY.
(Mrs. Walter Spencer)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, Happiness Poems, Vanity PoemsBased on Keywords: watch-tower, sayst, despoiler