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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: XCVI
Work rating: Low

ON THE SHORTNESS OF TIME
 If I could live without the thought of death,
 Forgetful of time`s waste, the soul`s decay,
 I would not ask for other joy than breath
 With light and sound of birds and the sun`s ray.
 I could sit on untroubled day by day
 Watching the grass grow, and the wild flowers range
 From blue to yellow and from red to grey
 In natural sequence as the seasons change.
 I could afford to wait, but for the hurt
 Of this dull tick of time which chides my ear.
 But now I dare not sit with loins ungirt
 And staff unlifted, for death stands too near.
 I must be up and doing--ay, each minute.
 The grave gives time for rest when we are in it.
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