Moral Pieces, in Prose and Verse/Rapidity of Time

by Lydia Sigourney

RAPIDITY OF TIME.

EV'N while we pause, the rapid date
    Of life comes rushing on,
The sad heart feels the stroke of fate,
    We tremble and are gone:

Gone and forgot, the mourning eye
    May moisten as we sleep;
But time shall sooth the rushing sigh,
    And dry the eyes that weep.

A little mound of turf, alone
    Shall shade our senseless breast;
The clay-cold sod, the burial stone,
Made dark with storms, with moss o'ergrown,
    Shall mark our place of rest.