Time and I were friends long gone;
Though he was my master
I would say to him each dawn
"Faster, faster, faster!
Somewhere farther down the road
We will find fair love's abode:
He is waiting for me, I know --
Let us swifter go!"

Love was waiting there ahead
In his open door.
Once with him, to Time I said
"Slower, slower, slower!
Love and I would be content
If most leisurely you went."
But Time ever hastened so
   He became my foe.

Now I hold Time dear once more
And his favor curry.
And I cry out as of yore
"Hurry, hurry, hurry!
Love has made a new abode --
I would join him down the road."
But Time has grown old and slow
   And the days lag so.

Sonnets of sorrow and triumph. by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
New York: George H. Doran, 1918.

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