I MADE a covenant with Time. He spake:
“O braggard brain, presumptuous heart of dust,
Brief energy, dost fret at moth and rust?
Tliink’st thou to mend the laggard pace I take?
Behold, the hills —the baubles that I make—
Bow down before me: verily thou must!
Then grudge not, stint not, brave the world’s distrust,
Wait and stand steadfast while I make and break; —
Then see how generous old Time can be!
Then rest, and be his darling! Ho, the sheaves
These hasty folk snatch from my granary,
Then, startled at my shadow, drop like thieves!
I chuckle as I lay them by for thee,
Mellow as sunlight in autumnal eves!”