If you were coming in the fall I'd brush the summer by With half a smile and half a spurn As housewives do a fly. If I could see you in a year I'd wind the months in balls And put them into separate drawers Until their time befalls. If only centuries delayed I'd count them on my hand Subtracting 'till my fingers dropped Into Van Diemen's land If certain when this life was out That yours and mine should be I'd toss life yonder like a rind And taste eternity. But now all ignorant of length, Of times uncertain wing, It goads me like the goblin bee That will not state its sting!
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