Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days, 
Muffled and dumb, like barefoot dervishes, 
And marching single in an endless file, 
Bring diadems and fagots in their hands. 
To each they offer gifts, after his will,-- 
Bread, kingdoms, stars, or sky that holds them all. 
I, in my pleachéd garden, watched the pomp, 
Forgot my morning wishes, hastily 
Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day 
Turned and departed silent. I, too late, 
Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn.

Added: Jan 31 2004 | Viewed: 3408 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Ralph Waldo Emerson
Poem: Days
Poem of the Day: Feb 25 2001
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