fleeting things; Run too lightly with the wind--chased too many shining wings; Thought too seldom of the night, and the silence that it brings.
Well I fear me I have been but an idler in the sun-- All unfinished are the tasks long and long ago begun-- In the dark perchance they weep, who have left their work undone.
And I know each black-frocked friar preacheth sermons that, alas! Fain would halt the dancing feet of those careless ones who pass Down a sweet and primrose path, through the ribbons of the grass.
Silver-clock! O Silver-clock! It was only yesterday Dandelions flecked the field, starry bright, and gold and gay; You are but the ghost of one--little globe of silver-grey!
Tell me--tell me of the hour--for there is so much to do! Is it early? Is it late? Fairy clock! 0 tell me true, As I blow you down the wind, out upon a road of blue.
When day is ended, and grey twilight flies On silent wings across the tired land, The slumber angel cometh from the skies-- Th