Too soon the lightest feet are lead,
All tongues of silver cease:
Ev'n Shakespeare with a word half said
Is pledged to hold his peace!
So artlessly kings fall asleep,
Wearing their crowns awry.
Their hands forget what they would keep
And lossen as they lie.
And lovers mellow to the sound
Of meadow larks in spring
Grow inattentive underground
Nor heed them when they sing.
I dare not say my joy is great,
Time presses on me so.
Counting the early hour as late
What space I have to go.
but faint for rapture like the rest
Life chooses so to mock
Speechless, I hold love to my breast
And listen to the clock!