Poems of Progress by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
page 57 of 107 (53%)
page 57 of 107 (53%)
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Time looked me in the eyes while passing by
The milestone of the year. That piercing gaze Was both an accusation and reproach. No speech was needed. In a sorrowing look More meaning lies than in complaining words, And silence hurts as keenly as reproof. Oh, opulent, kind giver of rich hours, How have I used thy benefits! As babes Unstring a necklace, laughing at the sound Of priceless jewels dropping one by one, So have I laughed while precious moments rolled Into the hidden corners of the past. And I have let large opportunities For high endeavour move unheeded by, While little joys and cares absorbed my strength. And yet, dear Time, set to my credit this: NOT ONE WHITE HOUR HAVE I MADE BLACK WITH HATE, NOR WISHED ONE LIVING CREATURE AUGHT BUT GOOD. Be patient with me. Though the sun slants west, The day has not yet finished, and I feel Necessity for action and resolve Bear in upon my consciousness. I know The earth's eternal need of earnest souls, And the great hunger of the world for Love. I know the goal to high achievement lies Through the dull pathway of self-conquest first; And on the stairs of little duties done We climb to joys that stand thy test. O Time, |
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