As Time
Glides
On
Hazell, Watson & Viney, Limd. Lith.
London & Aylesbury.
I wear not the purple of earth-born kings,
Nor the stately ermine of lordly things;
But monarch and courtier though great they be,
Must fall from their glory, and bend to me.
My sceptre is gemless; yet who can say
They will not come under its mighty sway?
Ye may learn who I am,—there's the passing chime
And the dial to herald me—Old King Time!
Eliza Cook.
As Time
Glides On.
The Months
in Picture and Poem.
arranged by
G. Thompson Hutchinson.
Frank Hobden, George H. Edwards, H. F. Hobden,
A. Woodruff
and
Allan Barraud.
LONDON
Hodder and Stoughton,
27, Paternoster Row.
The months are met with their crownlets on,
As Julius Cæsar crowned them;
With slaves the gentleman thirty-one,
And the ladies thirty round them.
Old Ballad.
Day follows night; and night
The dying day: stars rise, and set, and rise:
Earth takes th' example. See, the summer gay,
With her green chaplet, and embrosial flowers,
Droops into pellid autumn: winter grey,
Horrid with frost, and turbulent with storm,
Blows autumn and his golden fruits away;
Then melts into the spring, soft spring, with breath
Favonian, from warm chambers of the south,
Recalls the first. All to reflourish, fades:
As in a wheel, all sinks, to re-ascend,
Emblems of man, who passes, not expires.
Young.