I LONG have had a quarrel set with Time <br />Because he robb'd me. Every day of life <br />Was wrested from me after bitter strife: <br />I never yet could see the sun go down <br />But I was angry in my heart, nor hear <br />The leaves fall in the wind without a tear <br />Over the dying summer. I have known <br />No truce with Time nor Time's accomplice, Death. <br /> The fair world is the witness of a crime <br />Repeated every hour. For life and breath <br />Are sweet to all who live; and bitterly <br />The voices of these robbers of the heath <br />Sound in each ear and chill the passer-by. <br />--What have we done to thee, thou monstrous Time? <br />What have we done to Death that we must die?<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-two-highwaymen/
