Once at a potent leader's voice I stayed;
Once I went back when a good monarch prayed;
read more

Once at a potent leader's voice I stayed;
Once I went back when a good monarch prayed;
Mortals, howe'er we grieve, howe'er deplore,
The flying shadow will return no more.

Hours fly,
Flowers die.
New days,
New ways,
Pass by.
read more

Hours fly,
Flowers die.
New days,
New ways,
Pass by.
Love stays.

Let others tell of storms and showers,
I'll only mark your sunny hours.

Let others tell of storms and showers,
I'll only mark your sunny hours.

The hour of justice does not strike
On the dials of this world.
[Fr., L'heure de la read more

The hour of justice does not strike
On the dials of this world.
[Fr., L'heure de la justice ne sonne pas
Aux cadrans de ce monde.]
- Maurice Maeterlinck, Measure of the Hours,

The Natural Clock-work by the might One
Wound up at first, and ever since have gone.

The Natural Clock-work by the might One
Wound up at first, and ever since have gone.

I count only the hours that are serene.
[Lat., Horas non numero nisi serenas.]

I count only the hours that are serene.
[Lat., Horas non numero nisi serenas.]

O God! methinks it were a happy life
To be no better than a homely swain;
To read more

O God! methinks it were a happy life
To be no better than a homely swain;
To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
To carve out dials, quaintly, point by point,
Thereby to see the minutes, how they run--
How many makes the hour full complete,
How many hours brings about the day,
How many days will finish up the year,
How many years a mortal man may live;
When this is known, then to divide the times--
So many hours must I tend my flock,
So many hours must I take my rest,
So many hours must I contemplate,
So many hours must I sport myself;
So many days my ewes have been with young,
So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean,
So many months ere I shall shear the fleece.
So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years,
Passed over to the end they were created,
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Ah, what a life were this!

If o'er the dial glides a shade, redeem
The time for lo! it passes like a dream;
read more

If o'er the dial glides a shade, redeem
The time for lo! it passes like a dream;
But if 'tis all a blank, then mark the loss
Of hours unblest by shadows from the cross.

In the day, do the day's work.

In the day, do the day's work.