The Future flees
Before me- I pursue with faltering feet
Afire to sieze
That gaily mocking echo-
But, tis fleet,
And I, a cripple driven to my knees,
Can chase no more; athirst for guarantees-
For that which one can KNOW-
I dimly sense
This mystery of Time will not arrive
When summoned hence.
Not all my eager grasping
Can contrive,
That I, who see not clearly, Lord, nor far
Should pierce that cloud,unlit by any star.
And it is better so.
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