TIME AND ETERNITY
Then, if it have burrowed Out of reach of skill,Ring the tree and leave it, — ’T is the vermin’s will.
XCVI
’TIS sunrise, little maid, hast thouNo station in the day?’T was not thy wont to hinder so, — Retrieve thine industry.
’T is noon, my little maid, alas! And art thou sleeping yet ?The lily waiting to be wed, The bee, dost thou forget?
My little maid, ’t is night; alas, That night should be to theeInstead of morning! Hadst thou broached Thy little plan to me,Dissuade thee if I could not, sweet, I might have aided thee.
XCVII
EACH that we lose takes part of us;A crescent still abides,Which like the moon, some turbid night, Is summoned by the tides.
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