Rosemary and Pansies/The Pageant of the Hours
THE PAGEANT OF THE HOURS
IFor ever do the Hours unfold The tale in Fate's great book enrolled, The tale for ever to be told, For ever new, yet ever old: They march for ever on their way Nor prayer nor threat their course can stay; Impassive ministers of Fate, Unmoved alike by Love or Hate: Yet are they friends, not foes, to man, Could he their course with calmness scan.
II They bring us Life—ill-omened gift! And set us in the world adrift To struggle with it as we may, To triumph or become its prey: Indifferent on their path they go, Regardless of our joy or woe, Unenvious of our happiness, And pitiless to our distress; They furnish forth for us the stage, But care not how we rant or rage.
IIIThey give us love, good-fortune, joy, Yet as they give their gifts destroy; Enchant with visions of delight, Then plunge us deep in starless night; Our hopes for ever dash with fears, Our joys for ever drown in tears; Never unmingled bliss bestow, Or give it but to overthrow; Man's soul a pipe whereon they play What tones they will, or grave or gay.
IV Tireless upon their way they sweep, Bearing their burdens to the deep Eternal sea from whose dim shore Return is barred for evermore; All that we prize and all we fear They bear onto its waters drear, Which, though they seem so dark and cold, Nepenthe for all sorrows hold; A gift of all good gifts the best— Eternal and undreaming rest.
V Unhindered on their way they keep,Nor ever pause nor ever sleep,Nor torn aside nor look behind, But tread the path to them assigned When Nature, born a Twin with Time, Assumed her attributes sublime, And entered on her glorious dower Of all-embracing rule and power: So till her sovereignty is past The Pageant of the Hours shall last
1901