I
NG have had a quarrel set with
Because he robb'd me.
Every day of
Was wrested from me after bitter strife:
I never yet could see the sun go
But I was angry in my heart, nor
The leaves fall in the wind without a
Over the dying summer.
I have
No truce with Time nor Time's accomplice,
Death. The fair world is the witness of a
Repeated every hour.
For life and
Are sweet to all who live; and
The voices of these robbers of the
Sound in each ear and chill the passer-by.—What have we done to thee, thou monstrous Time?
What have we done to Death that we must die?