AGAINST CLOCK AND COMPASSES

“Beauty dwindles into shadow, Beauty dies, preferred by Fate, Past the rescue of bold thought. Sentries drowsed,” they say, “at Beauty’s gate.” “Time duteous to his hour-glass, Time with unerring sickle, Garners to a land remote Where your vows of true love are proved fickle.” “Love chill upon her forehead, Love fading from her cheek, Love dulled in either eye, With voice of love,” they say, “no more to speak.” I deny to Time his terror; Come-and-go prevails not here; Spring is constant, loveless winter Looms, but elsewhere, for he comes not near. I deny to Space the sorrow; No leagues measure love from me; Turning boldly from her arms, Into her arms I shall come certainly. Time and Space, folly’s wonder, Three-card shufflers, magic-men! True love is, that none shall say It ever was, or ever flowers again.