THE CLOCK OF THE YEARS

And the Spirit said,

“I can make the clock of the years go backward,

But am loth to stop it where you will.”

And I cried, “Agreed

To that. Proceed:

It's better than dead!”

He answered, “Peace”;

And called her up — as last before me;

Then younger, younger she freshed, to the year

I first had known

Her woman-grown,

And I cried, “Cease! -

“Thus far is good -

It is enough — let her stay thus always!”

But alas for me. He shook his head:

No stop was there;

And she waned child-fair,

And to babyhood.

Still less in mien

To my great sorrow became she slowly,

And smalled till she was nought at all

In his checkless griff;

And it was as if

She had never been.

“Better,” I plained,

“She were dead as before! The memory of her

Had lived in me; but it cannot now!”

And coldly his voice:

“It was your choice

To mar the ordained.”