Against that time, if ever that time come. AGAINST that time, if ever that time come, Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass, To leave poor me thou hast the strength of laws, Lo, here the gentle lark. Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest, From his moist cabinet mounts up on high, And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast The sun ariseth in his majesty ; Who doth the world so gloriously behold That cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold. Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore. LIKE as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, Each changing place with that which goes before, Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow. Fear no more the heat o' th' sun. FEAR no more the heat o' th' sun, Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. |