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Poem by Sidney Lanier


Special Pleading


Time, hurry my Love to me:
Haste, haste! Lovst not good company?
Heres but a heart-break sandy waste
Twixt Now and Then. Why, killing haste
Were best, dear Time, for thee, for thee!

Oh, would that I might divine
Thy name beyond the zodiac sign
Wherefrom our times-to-come descend.
He called thee `Sometime. Change it, friend:
`Now-time sounds so much more fine!

Sweet Sometime, fly fast to me:
Poor Now-time sits in the Lonesome-tree
And broods as gray as any dove,
And calls, `When wilt thou come, O Love?
And pleads across the waste to thee.

Good Moment, that givst him me,
Wast ever in love? Maybe, maybe
Thoult be this heavenly velvet time
When Day and Night as rhyme and rhyme
Set lip to lip dusk-modestly;

Or haply some noon afar,
-- O lifes top bud, mixt rose and star,
How ever can thine utmost sweet
Be star-consummate, rose-complete,
Till thy rich reds full opened are?

Well, be it dusk-time or noon-time,
I ask but one small boon, Time:
Come thou in night, come thou in day,
I care not, I care not: have thine own way,
But only, but only, come soon, Time.



Sidney Lanier


Sidney Lanier's other poems:
  1. On Huntingdons "Miranda"
  2. Nirvana
  3. Marsh Hymns
  4. On Violets Wafers, Sent Me When I Was Ill
  5. Our Hills


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