No, Time jests not, Nor have I guessed What has overshot All bitter jest Since first Man got Fate's manifest.

Cold eyes averse And stony brows And the old curse On Adam's house Despite, my verse This truth allows:

A clear light hidden, A tower of air, A voice unbidden, A secret stair, And dream long-chidden That makes aware

Thought of a time-- Who shall say how?

Oh, burnished grime, Star-studded plough, Common coin of rhyme Ringing golden now!

THE END