The Whispers Of Time

By Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

What does time whisper, youth gay and light,
While thinning thy locks, silken and bright,
While paling thy soft cheek-s roseate dye,
Dimming the light of thy flashing eye,
Stealing thy bloom and freshness away-
Is he not hinting at death-decay?

Man, in the wane of thy stately prime,
Hear-st thou the silent warnings of Time?
Look at thy brow ploughed by anxious care,
The silver hue of thy once dark hair;-
What boot thine honors, thy treasures bright,
When Time tells of coming gloom and night?

Sad age, dost thou note thy strength nigh, spent,
How slow thy footstep-thy form how bent?
Yet on looking back how short doth seem
The checkered coarse of thy life-s brief dream.
Time, daily weakening each link and tie,
Doth whisper how soon thou art to die.

O! what a weary world were ours
With that thought to cloud our brightest hours,
Did we not know that beyond the skies
A land of beauty and promise ties,
Where peaceful and blessed we will love-adore-
When Time itself shall be no more!

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