Move onward, Time, and bring us sooner free <br />From this self--clouding turmoil where we ply <br />On others' errands driven continually: <br />O lead us to our own souls, ere we die! <br /> <br />We toil for that we love not; thou concealest <br />Our true loves from us; all we thirst to attain <br />Thou darkly holdest, and alone revealest <br />A mirror that our sighs for ever stain. <br /> <br />Art thou so jealous of our full delight? <br />Thou takest our strength, toil, fervour, and sweet youth; <br />And when thou hast taken these, thou givest sight <br />At last to see and to endure the truth. <br /> <br />Thou art too swift to our weak steps; but oh, <br />To our desire thou movest, Time, how slow!<br /><br />Robert Laurence Binyon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-prayer-of-time/
