To His Watch by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Mortal my mate, bearing my rock-a-heart
Warm beat with cold beat company, shall I
Earlier or you fail at our force, and lie
The ruins of, rifled, once a world of art?
The telling time our task is; timeâ€™s some part,
Not all, but we were framed to fail and dieâ€”
One spell and well that one. There, ah thereby
Is comfortâ€™s carol of all or woeâ€™s worst smart.
Field-flown, the departed day no morning brings
Saying â€˜This was yoursâ€™ with her, but new one, worse,
And then that last and shortestâ€¦