And seasons, too, aslipping thro’ the years, afleet.
And whither hath their trend then led?
Ah, whither!
How do I to stop amid the very pulse o’ life.
Afeared! Yea, fear clutcheth at my very heart!
For what? The night? Nay, night doth shimmer
And flash the jewels I did count
E’er fear had stricken me.
The morn? Nay, I waked with morn atremor,
And know the day-tide’s every hour.