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Robert Laurence Binyon - To Time
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Time, Time, who choosest
 All in the end well;
 Who severely refusest
 Fames upon trumpets blown
 Loud for a day, and alone
 Makest truth to excel:

 Shadow of God, slowly
 Gathering words, long
 Scorned, to make them holy,
 And deeds like stars bright
 That none perceived in the light,
 Lifting the weak to be strong:

 Shall I not praise thee,
 Thou just judge? Yet O
 What so long stays thee?
 Why must thy feet halt,
 While our tears grow salt
 And our old hopes go!

 Beauty is throned at last;
 Truth rings falsehood`s knell;
 But our strength, our joy is past
 While our hearts wait thee:
 Time, Time, I hate thee,
 Hate thee, and rebel.
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