Time Poem by John Kenyon
Time
Like as one, erewhile pursuing,
Shouts him o'er his captured foe,
'Spite of all thy fleetest doing,
Now, thou Slave! behind me go.'
So doth Time, austere transmuter,
Following, following, fast and fast,
Lay strong hand on forward Future;
Then consigns him to the Past.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
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5/11/2024 1:10:37 AM # 1.0.0.1119
