Verse > Anthologies > Hunt and Lee, eds. > The Book of the Sonnet
Hunt and Lee, comps.  The Book of the Sonnet.  1867.
III. To Time
By William Lisle Bowles (1762–1850)
O TIME! who know’st a lenient hand to lay
  Softest on sorrow’s wound, and slowly thence
  (Lulling to sad repose the weary sense)
  The faint pang stealest, unperceived, away;
On thee I rest my only hope at last,        5
  And think when thou hast dried the bitter tear
  That flows in vain o’er all my soul held dear,
  I may look back on every sorrow past,
And meet life’s peaceful evening with a smile.
  As some lone bird, at day’s departing hour,        10
  Sings in the sunbeam, of the transient shower
Forgetful, though its wings are wet the while:
  Yet, ah! how much must that poor heart endure
  Which hopes from thee, and thee alone, a cure!

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