AND THIS MY HOPE SITS HIGH FOR TIME MUST PASS
NINETEEN SONNETS
(OLD STYLE)
XV
And this my hope sits high for time must pass,
Made up of seconds, minutes, hours and days,
-- Horology recorded on the grass
In dial shadow where the Sunlight plays:
And things that mattered more give place by place
To things that matter less, and less, and less;
And all the World and all that it embrace
Stamps each successive day with less impress.
Yet Time the coiner, with recurring beat,
No false nor counterfeit presentment mints,
But just alloy of sorrow and defeat
With purest gold of love and patience prints,
That one day shall be uttered proof above
All base and flattering currency of love.
NINETEEN SONNETS
(OLD STYLE)
XV
And this my hope sits high for time must pass,
Made up of seconds, minutes, hours and days,
-- Horology recorded on the grass
In dial shadow where the Sunlight plays:
And things that mattered more give place by place
To things that matter less, and less, and less;
And all the World and all that it embrace
Stamps each successive day with less impress.
Yet Time the coiner, with recurring beat,
No false nor counterfeit presentment mints,
But just alloy of sorrow and defeat
With purest gold of love and patience prints,
That one day shall be uttered proof above
All base and flattering currency of love.