THE FAIRY CLOCK

It has been so glad a world since the coming of the morn,

Oft I wondered when I met any souls who seemed forlorn —

And I scarce gave heed to those who were old or travel worn.

Mayhap I have loved too well the merry fleeting things;

Run too lightly with the wind — chased too many shining wings;

Thought too seldom of the night, and the silence that it brings.

Well I fear me I have been but an idler in the sun —

All unfinished are the tasks long and long ago begun —

In the dark perchance they weep, who have left their work undone.

And I know each black-frocked friar preacheth sermons that, alas!

Fain would halt the dancing feet of those careless ones who pass

Down a sweet and primrose path, through the ribbons of the grass.

Silver-clock! O Silver-clock! It was only yesterday

Dandelions flecked the field, starry bright, and gold and gay;

You are but the ghost of one — little globe of silver-grey!

Tell me — tell me of the hour — for there is so much to do!

Is it early? Is it late? Fairy clock! o tell me true,

As I blow you down the wind, out upon a road of blue.