A PLEA
Take you such gold as I have, old Time;
’Tis a trifling thing that you win;
For what is gold but a sordid lure,
All blotched with the blood of men?
’Tis little I care for the filthy stuff,
And less is my need thereof;
Take you such gold as I have, old Time,
But leave me a little love!
Take you the cold world’s praise, old Time;
’Tis hollow and false, I know;
For Honor, at best, is an empty name,
And Fame but a trumpet the foolish blow;
Take them and bid them fly fast from me,
Fly fast as a homing dove;
Take you the cold world’s praise, old Time,
But leave me a little love!
Yea, leave me a little love, old Time,
And take you all else you prize;
For Love will sweeten the saddest heart
Like a blossom from Paradise.
’Tis the goodliest gift of God to man,
A treasure fine gold above;
So, take you all else you prize, old Time,
But leave me a little love!
Hilton R. Greer.