Time flies. The swift hours hurry by
   And speed us on to untried ways;
New seasons ripen, perish, die,
   And yet love stays.
The old, old love--like sweet at first,
   At last like bitter wine--
I know not if it blest or curst,
   Thy life and mine.

Time flies. In vain our prayers, our tears
   We cannot tempt him to delays;
Down to the past he bears the years,
   And yet love stays
Through changing task and varying dream
   We hear the same refrain,
As one can hear a plaintive theme
   Run through each strain.

Time flies. He steals our pulsing youth,
   He robs us of our care-free days,
He takes away our trust and truth,
   And yet love stays.
O Time! take love! When love is vain,
   When all its best joys die--
When only its regrets remain--
   Let love, too, fly.

Poems of Passion by Ella Wheeler
Chicago : Belford, Clarke & Co, 1883.

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