Henry Austin Dobson (Генри Остин Добсон)
The Paradox of Time
Time goes, you say? Ah no! Alas, Time stays, we go; Or else, were this not so, What need to chain the hours, For Youth were always ours? Time goes, you say?-ah no! Ours is the eyes' deceit Of men whose flying feet Lead through some landscape low; We pass, and think we see The earth's fixed surface flee:- Alas, Time stays,-we go! Once in the days of old, Your locks were curling gold, And mine had shamed the crow. Now, in the self-same stage, We've reached the silver age; Time goes, you say?-ah no! Once, when my voice was strong, I filled the woods with song To praise your 'rose' and 'snow'; My bird, that sang, is dead; Where are your roses fled? Alas, Time stays,-we go! See, in what traversed ways, What backward Fate delays The hopes we used to know; Where are our old desires?- Ah, where those vanished fires? Time goes, you say?-ah no! How far, how far, O Sweet, The past behind our feet Lies in the even-glow! Now, on the forward way, Let us fold hands, and pray; Alas, Time stays,-we go!
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